From Order To Chaos
by flavone
Summary: Evelyn never expected to wake up in Tamriel. Follow her adventures through Skyrim as she tries to adjust to the new normal. What could possibly go wrong? AU non-Dragonborn main character. Rating changed to M for violence. Better description inside. (Also: the Gelebor stands in for Vyrthur)
1. The Beginning

**Chapter One: The Beginning**

* * *

_**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios except my OC's. No profit has been made. Copyright peeps please spare me.**_

_**Summary: Evelyn never expected to wake up in Tamriel. Follow her adventures through Skyrim as she tries to adjust to the new normal. What could possibly go wrong? AU non-Dragonborn main character. Rated M for violence/combat, and language.**_

_**It always annoyed me how the Dragonborn got railroaded into just about everything and the kitchen sink, so I decided to stick someone in Tamriel that would resist the call of the plot (at least a little bit). I also decided to make them not-the-Dragonborn because, well, why not? So here goes nothing, just my attempt to wreak havoc in the Elder Scrolls universe using a particularly stubborn college student. As I said before, what could possibly go wrong?**_

_**Characters: Estormo, Vyrthur, OCs (you'll have to meet them), Hermaeus Mora, Dragonborn, with a side of Ondolemar, Savos Aren, Daedra, and Gelebor. And Sheogorath. You can't have plot madness without him.**_

_**I try to update every other week, and comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! **_

* * *

In Evelyn's opinion, the best part about adulthood – if being a college student qualified – was that she could get away with deciding things for herself. It was how she had scored being able to stay home for the annual neighborhood party. A few grocery store trips to show her productivity here, some hints about all the homework she still had to work on over there, and asking nicely had gotten her a ticket to freedom for the afternoon.

Evelyn grinned to herself. _I won't have to deal with small-talk or gossip about so-and-so's most recent pet goldfish…_

She hopped onto the couch, dropping a stack of books next to her.

_My brother is at camp, and mom and dad aren't due back until this evening…_

_Freedom is glorious._

With the smile still stuck to her face, she turned on the TV and opened up the first textbook. She **had** promised to get some homework done, after all, and the faster she finished it, the faster she could move on to the fun activities - like reading or doodling. She flipped the page and started reading.

* * *

After the fourth time she caught herself nodding off, Evelyn decided that enough was enough. She rubbed her eyes and leaned away from the book.

_Just a small break. Then I'll finish up._

She sighed and stared around the living room. It was cozy and warm, with knick-knacks from various vacations on display. Evelyn was trying to remember where each souvenir came from when a shift in her peripheral vision caught her eye.

_Is that Mittens?_

She tilted her head to get a better view.

The calico was chewing on an already-mangled fake fern. Very enthusiastically, at that.

Evelyn rose an eyebrow before looking back down at her textbook. She sighed. And then, with a silent groan, she turned to the next page.

_Why does Professor Sterling even want a paper about the chemicals in dirt? To use as a sleeping aid?_

She frowned to herself, paused, and then switched out for another textbook, setting down the first one.

_Instead of wasting my time trying to stay awake, I can do all of my **other** readings. Astronomy and linguistics are more interesting, anyways. _

Evelyn turned the page, revealing a diagram of the solar system, and pulled out her notes.

* * *

An hour or so later, she was interrupted by an "urgent" report on the news.

Another person had been found dead – killed with what the forensics experts believed to be a studded baseball bat. The body had been found on a hiking path in the woods. _Another person who shouldn't have gone out alone_, she thought. She was well aware of the danger of jogging solo – especially with all these cases popping up over the country of people getting themselves murdered by some crazy medieval fanatic.

The murders were far enough apart timewise that they could have been a single person, but some conspiracy theorists were arguing for a medieval cult – secretly hidden under everyone's noses. The Renaissance Festival had been called off for the year because it was still "too fresh in the minds of the survivors."

_Huh_. Evelyn had some doubts about that reasoning. It was probably because they would be practically begging for lawsuits if they held the fair and someone got hurt or killed. She watered the plants, fed the cat, and then went back to reading.

* * *

Or at least tried to.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the news-lady went over the information currently known about the killer, and their trail of destruction. The victims had all been found in strange medieval gear, so the police were trying to track down suppliers of Renaissance Festival apparel in the hopes of finding a paper trail to the murderer (with little success). _Another reason why the Renfest is closed_.

The presenters continued to discuss the movement patterns of the murderer. Washington had been hit first, where a man was found in animal hides frozen into a snowbank. He was apparently stabbed to death with an icicle. Then, a couple of years later, a woman in South Dakota looked to have been killed with a hunting bow. Another woman was found in Michigan, and officials believed that she could have been killed by wolves.

But, you don't just find wolves in a small running park, so the detectives were toying with the idea that the killer might have some sort of large pet dog.

It was a person here, a person there, all with unusually brutal deaths. Detectives were advising people in Maine to stay indoors and to call the police if they grew suspicious of anything. Overall though, this was all happening far away from Texas, so Evelyn was feeling pretty safe in her house down South… but she **was** home alone… _better safe than sorry_. She checked the doors in the house.

* * *

Everything was locked and secure, and she could breathe a bit easier. She'd have to unlock the front door later for her brother when the bus dropped him off, but until then Evelyn could chill with her music and work on her college readings. She might even start the paper if she was feeling productive later on (but only if she was **really** feeling motivated - a paper written about dirt needs a special brand of tenacity to complete). Professor Sterling was determined to kill her students, she could just feel it. Evelyn turned her music on and began scribbling away at the notes.

* * *

As time wore on, however, she began to feel more and more uneasy. The room seemed too still, and she couldn't remember the last time she saw Mittens running by. _Maybe the little calico is taking a nap?_ She tried to keep reading but it felt as if she was being watched. _I probably shouldn't have put the news on - there's a reason why I avoid horror movies._

Finally reaching her breaking point of creepiness, Evelyn turned her music off and went upstairs to get away from the ground-floor windows. Quiet. It was dead silent in the house. She checked the upper windows. Nothing unusual was near the house – nothing, no one, nada. Reassured that everything was normal, Evelyn felt a bit foolish after calming down from her moment of paranoia. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she crept back down the stairs. Yet again, better safe than sorry. She looked around the living room downstairs. No one was there. She was the only one in the house. No noises of anyone in or open any doors – a good sign in her book.

Then she realized. There was no sound – no noise – no TV. She hadn't turned off the TV.

Her throat tightened and she could feel her stomach drop away. Someone had turned the TV off, and that someone had most definitely not been her. They were in the house. She didn't know how, but whoever it was had gotten in – probably before she locked the doors – and they had likely been creeping around for a while by now. She felt goosebumps on her arms. Why hadn't she realized the TV was dark? Why hadn't she locked the doors earlier?

Her eyes darted around the room as she backed up to the stairwell. She kept her breathing as quiet as possible.

Now fully panicking, her brain was most unhelpful in dragging up the worst-case scenarios. It could be a robber, or it could be a kidnapper, it might even be a murderer or a gang! Did they know she was here? Whoever it was must have heard her walking around – she had just spent fifteen minutes creaking around the house floorboards!

But that brought up a worse question – why hadn't they shown themselves, they must know that she was aware of them now, why leave her out and risk her calling the police?

_The police!_ She needed to call the police! Evelyn fumbled her phone out and turned it on. Or at least tried to. The screen remained black._ I thought it was charged!_ _Home phone it is, then._ She pocketed her phone. She didn't feel comfortable enough running to the kitchen landline, so she decided on the upstairs phone.

Evelyn tried as best she could to get up the stairs without them creaking, but that stubborn step squealed at the last second. Cringing, she finished the climb and shuffled as quickly and quietly over to the phone as possible.

And then the lights flickered and died. Someone had cut the power. No home phone, then. She was beginning to feel sick – that tight uneasy feeling you get in your stomach, and the cold shivering even when it's warm outside. Her throat felt constricted, any noise might give her location away. The neighbors would all be at work, no one she knew was nearby. There would be no calling for help.

It was then that she remembered a snippet of the news broadcast. The murders had all been relatively unique in the method and target, but there was one commonality between the victims – they were all terrified. None of them were shocked or peaceful like a clean assassination, they were all abjectly horrified, staring down their fate and knowing that they would fail. Whoever had killed them had made sport of it. Not someone who simply killed those in their way. A sadist.

She couldn't slow down her breathing any longer. She could hear it over the silence in the house. Too loud. Too loud. The killer would hear and find her if she couldn't slow her breathing down.

She would not get a quick death if this person caught her. She would be caught and then … she shook her head. She couldn't think about it. It was too horrifying. No one knew what happened to the victims in between their abduction and death, but they were always found brutally killed.

A scraping noise sounded from downstairs.

It was final - there was someone inside her house, and they were not friendly. _What if they find me? What if they're a murderer? What if they already know I'm here?_ The scraping sound was closer. There were footsteps too. Heavy footsteps.

_They're going to kill me!_ Her eyes were dry, wide and frightened. Then the fight or flight kicked in. _No._

She decided that she was not going to be another of those victims. She had no desire to be murdered, she hadn't even graduated from college yet! So, she tried to think of ways out. Going downstairs is out of the question, her bedroom window had a screen, the front window won't open – _the bathroom window! It can open!_

She ran to the bathroom and closed the door, locking it before unlatching the window. She had just thrown caution and stealth to the wind.

But she would get out of this predicament. She could run to another house – _no, their doors will be locked…_ The store would be a better option – _more people and working phones._ She struggled to push the window out on its hinges. She could hear the footsteps from below getting louder and louder, but they never sped up._ Just. Need. To get out. of the house._ She thought as she finally swung the window open.

The footsteps never stopped, and the volume grew to a deep beat. And then something was scraping the bathroom door. It sounded horrible – claws on a chalkboard. A brief second later and the hinges were being sawed – she was nearly out of time.

She scrambled to drag herself out the window faster, but the beat was still getting louder. It was getting faster now, too – almost as fast as her heartbeat.

She made it to the roof before the door was thrown in – they must have finally cut through the hinges. She clawed her way to the top of the roof, fiberglass from the shingles rubbing her hands raw and burning her knees. The beat was now indistinguishable from her own heartbeat – it was all she could hear. She felt the house shake. Or was that just her?

Evelyn dragged herself over the ridge and then practically jumped down the other side.

Had the murderer followed her outside? Or did they think that she was gone? _Can they hear me running on the roof?_ Suddenly everything went silent. The beat stopped. She slid down feet first, making it to the edge of the roof before her vision blurred. She made it to the edge and got ready to jump down to the ground. She felt lightheaded, nearly giddy at being so close to victory and escape.

She was just leaning over the edge when something hit the back of her head. She fell into darkness.


	2. Be Our Guest

**Chapter Two: Be Our Guest**

* * *

Evelyn woke up feeling less than pleased with herself – the ground was hard and she felt filthy. _ I must have fallen asleep in some weird place again – please let it not be the bathroom, my parents will never let me hear the end of it_. She gave up trying to open her eyes when she realized that the lights were still on.

_This is why I need to get back to a regular sleep schedule – I'd get more sleep, and have fewer nightmares._ She shivered at the thought of her nightmare the previous night. Being stalked through her house by a killer. It was borderline impossible that she would be targeted by the murderer from the news - _too many coincidences -_ so it was likely her paranoia bleeding into her dreams.

She shifted a bit, feeling the cold hard floor of the bathroom – dreading having to explain how she fell asleep there… Again. At least until she hit her back on a sharp ridge. _ Our bathroom doesn't have a stool…_ Evelyn froze. _W__ait. I can't feel the bathroom rug or the tiles_ – immediately, her mind cleared up as she got a burst of adrenaline.

She rolled over onto her side and opened her eyes. Temporary blindness struck her, her eyes tearing up until she finally got used to the sunlight around her. She was surrounded by water and rocks. _That's not right_, she thought to herself. Stumbling to her feet, Evelyn took in the view. Bright light and greenery – A large lake front and center, evergreen trees everywhere, and some tall mountains up ahead. Most definitely **not** Houston.

Her eyes widened, and she pinched herself to try and shake off the dream.

Then she remembered her nightmare of trying to escape from her house. _This doesn't make sense! Unless… The murderer takes their victims to this place to kill them? No… that doesn't make sense either, the bodies were always found days after they disappeared for the most part, and the police said that the murderer killed each victim within a few hours of their abduction. I would need to be only a few hours away from my house for the pattern to hold up… and I don't know anywhere like this in Texas. Or America, for that matter._

After an unknown amount of time debating about where she might be and where her abductor went, Evelyn decided to find some civilization and try to figure out where she was taken to. Looking around, all she saw was the large lake with an island at the center along with a ruined tower of sorts on the far side.

It all seemed so strange… and… almost familiar, if she dared say so. Had she seen this place before? On a postcard? _Maybe the lake is some sort of European landmark that will have a nice tourist center nearby to go and call home from?_ Her parents must be freaking out – she needed to let them know that she was fine and very much not-murdered. _Maybe whoever kidnapped me is not the murderer the news was warning people up north about? _Her abductor hadn't killed her yet, just left her in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere.

She looked down at where she had been laying and did a double-take. Her phone was there! Her earbuds, too! _What kind of fool kidnapper leaves their victims with a phone? Maybe they took out the batteries?_ She pressed the power button. This time, the phone lit up; She grinned from ear to ear until she saw that there was no service. _Ugh._ Not knowing how long she'd be stuck in the wilderness, Evelyn decided to put it in airplane and power save mode, before dimming the screen and turning it off again. She stuck her phone in her pocket and then surveyed her options.

She could see the old castle tower on the other side of the lake, and mountains in all directions, but no buildings. _Hmm_. First things first she needed to get to a place with cell service. The mountains must be blocking it. Well, if she was too low, she needed to get higher up. More altitude would mean better chances of getting service, and better chances of seeing human settlements as well.

She looked back at the lake. Judging from the sun's position, she figured that she was most likely facing north. _Thank you summer camp_. A river flowed away from the lake to the East and towards some very tall snowcapped mountains, but the western side was relatively free of obstacles. It was also farther uphill than the Eastern side, so it would be best for getting service. _Hopefully._ Evelyn turned away from the river and began to hike west along the lakeshore, gravel crunching under her tennis shoes.

* * *

Her knees and palms burned and her feet were throbbing, but thankfully the lakewater was cool and soothing. She stopped every hour or so to rest and monitor her progress along the lake, as well as wash the dirt out of her cuts. The lake was much larger than she had expected, and she could only barely make out a few of her previous rest stops when she looked to the east.

The weather had been pleasant enough to start, but a chill swept through once the sun began to sink towards the horizon. Evelyn rubbed her arms to stay warm. _How could I have known that I'd be trekking in Europe when I got ready for the day?! My shirt wasn't made for cold weather, my shorts weren't made for cold weather… **I'm** not even made for cold weather! Give me hot and humid any day of the week and I can take it… _

Her mental tirade continued as she moved back to her feet in the dimming light. She still hadn't seen any signs of a town. _Great. Just Great_. Evelyn trudged forwards.

* * *

This was insane, it had to be. Or maybe she was insane, but she had spotted a water wheel over in the distance. A **water wheel**. _Who even uses water wheels? We've got power plants and electricity!_ Had she woken up in some Amish colony or Renfest?

After crossing a ridgeline, Evelyn got a better view of the watermill. It was part of a larger group of buildings nearby. Not a settlement so much as a very industrious family. She could make out a small shack next to the mill, and what appeared to be a house on the other side of a small river running between the buildings. Everything was made out of wood, stone, and hay. And there was a road! _Civilization at last!_

Evelyn was grateful to have finally found a settled area, but she wished that it could have been someplace with 21st century amenities. _Beggars can't be choosers, I guess._ She would figure out where she had ended up and then hopefully ask for a place to stay for the night – this was going to make for one crazy story once she got back home safely.

She had a moment of uncertainty when she realized that the people living here might be aligned with her kidnapper. She paused, sitting down on a nearby rock, and reasoned out the pros and cons of the situation before she got too close to turn back. The choice was made for her, however, when the sun finally set and the temperature dipped further. _I don't think that I'd be able to survive the night in these icy temperatures… Conversational awkwardness is better than hypothermic death._

Shivering at the chill, she turned back towards the mill and continued onwards.

* * *

After the last of the sunset faded into deep indigo, She saw that the house was definitely occupied – there was a glow coming from the windows that must have been a lit fireplace or something similar. She entered the yard area and walked up to the door of the well-lit house. _No going back now._ Evelyn knocked once and waited for a response.

She blinked in surprise when the door was opened within a second or two by a young woman. "A guest, oh my!" The woman's smile seemed off – it made her uneasy, but maybe that was just her overreactive 'stranger danger' sentiments? "Why don't you stay awhile? It looks as if you're tired and hungry from all your travels, and Hern and I adore guests!" She leaned in conspiratorially "the guards are such a bore these days." Evelyn gulped. _That was a lot of words._

She suddenly felt **very** uncertain about this place – what kind of person just invites a stranger in as a guest? She hadn't even said anything! _Is this normal for the area?_ _Maybe I can just ask where I am and then continue on my merry way?..._ The wind became cutting, and she had a brief shivering fit standing there in the doorway like some awkward penguin.

"Oh my, you're shaking like a leaf in this weather! Come now, the house is warm and I'm sure Hern will be perfectly alright with you staying the night – We don't go into town much, so we're used to getting all that we need from passing travelers and traders. You don't look like a trader, but we have room for you just the same."

There was a constant stream of talking as the woman moved to let her inside. Her mouth dry, Evelyn stood still on the porch. "That's ok, I'm fine, I'm good, I just wanted to know where I am right now?"

The woman looked thrown off for a second, but then her smile went back to full force strength. It still seemed strange though. "But it is so cold outside! You'll catch a chill in this wind if you stay out too long, and who knows what might be prowling the roads at this time of night! Truly, it would ease my heart if you would stay the night out of the cold."

Throughout this talk, Evelyn was becoming more and more suspicious of the woman – where was this Hern? He hadn't shown up yet and their house was tiny; why on earth would she so welcoming of guests? _More seriously, why is she so determined to have me as a guest? It seems off… and her smile looks painful – as if it were plastered to her face_ –_ there is no way I'm staying here overnight. Too creepy. I can find a little nook to hide and sleep in, goodness knows that I can sleep nearly anywhere._

Her mind made up, she returned from her thoughts to see the woman still beaming at her with that creepy smile. "I'll be fine, ma'am, no need to worry-" The woman's eyes narrowed a bit. "I'd feel terrible if I stayed the night without having anything to give in return." _Really. I'd feel terrible if I had to stay even a few more minutes at this place, it's time to get out. Please just let me walk away. _

Evelyn interrupted the woman before she could get another word in edgewise. "And I am grateful for the kind offer, but I really should be leaving now." The woman's face twitched, eyes hardening, before her face softened up again as if nothing had happened.

"Very well dear, just be careful out there." The smile was even creepier than before. Evelyn quickly dipped her head in gratitude and turned to leave.

And walked right into someone. "Didn't Hert tell you that we love guests? You wouldn't be imposing at all! In fact, it would be our pleasure to –" _Nope. Time to leave. _

Jumping sideways, Evelyn ran away from the house back to the road. She felt a breeze whip past her neck and heard the woman – Hert – hissing that she had the situation under control_. Definitely time to leave_. After a slight pause, she ran left towards the bridge.

Evelyn was only a few meters away from the cobbled road before something heavy slammed into her from behind, clawing at her sides and trying to restrain her. _How did she catch me so quickly?! I should have just avoided this crazy place!_ She tried twisting around to break free with little success, but she was able to use her hands to keep the woman away from-

_Impossible._

Evelyn could now see in the shadows that the woman had glowing eyes. She pushed the crazy lady's face away and saw fangs. They glinted in the moonlight. _Vampires?! _

The man – Hern – was approaching at a leisurely pace, dry grass crunching underfoot. He was grinning and had sharp teeth similar to Hert. "Under control, you said?" "Shut up and help me, love, she's stubborn" _I am NOT going to be killed by some cannibals! No! _ With a burst of energy, she tried flailing crazily, twisting her arms away from the insane woman. She rolled out of the woman's grip and took off at a dead sprint.

The sounds of footsteps and angry hissing followed her into the night.

* * *

Her feet hurt. Her lungs hurt. Her head hurt. She could still hear hissing and footsteps behind her. Or maybe it was just her breathing. She did not dare look back, just ran as fast as possible away from her would-be murderers. No idea how close they might be.

* * *

The icy air bit at her lungs, freezing and burning at the same time, but she had been ignoring it for a while. Her legs and lungs were on fire but the cannibals still continued their chase. She had taken a turn to get away from the lake area some time ago, but now the road was twisting and she couldn't see ahead any farther than a few hundred meters.

She thought she had lost the two until she ran into them waiting for her ahead – the path was winding, and they must have known it well enough to be able to head her off. Already panicked, she did the only thing she could think of – run into the forests. At least it would lead her away from them and their house of death.

She ran into the forest but quickly lost track of where she was going – she could only run straight ahead, her legs too tired to change direction. Evelyn could feel herself slowing down as it became harder and harder to lift her feet off the ground. She stumbled a few times when she couldn't lift her legs high enough to clear a bush or root, but she kept running. Or plodding. She was too tired to be conscious of much else other than the need to keep moving.

* * *

Evelyn didn't remember much else of her dogged escape, just trees everywhere and an all-encompassing numb-soreness. She would run until she dropped, and she could not drop until she was safe from the predatory couple. She stumbled onwards in the dark.


	3. Trudging Along

**Chapter Three: Trudging Along**

* * *

Jyrod was a pretty reasonable man, in his opinion. He had grown up to become a guard just like his father Jornelf before him, and he had done well in all the guarding that such a position required: patrolling the wilds around Falkreath and making sure the roads were safe from threats to travelers.

Typically, that just meant walking around in a line with his comrades and joking about the wannabe adventurers who would eventually find themselves on guard duty. Honestly, Jyrod was smart. He had decided to just avoid the dangerous adventuring part and skip to the -rather profitable- business of making sure the Jarl felt safe.

Even if the Jarl acted strangely. He had no idea why Jarl Siddgeir had wanted them to check the old bandit hideout. All they had found there was a little sack of garbage and a note addressed to the jarl – according to Gistir, at least, seeing as Jyrod couldn't read.

He figured that the paper was what Jarl Siddgeir wanted, but he couldn't find a reason for a note to be so important. A courier would have been better for this job than a detachment of guards, and faster than them as well.

Yet again he was reminded that he really didn't understand what went on in a Jarl's head.

_Anyways_, Jyrod thought, he was a man of simple tastes and simple desires. All he really wanted was to be back in Dead Man's Drink with a mug of mead in one arm and his sweetheart in the other.

What he had **not** wanted, however, was to have to deal with some crazy commoner who had come running into their camp, wearing nothing but her underclothes and moaning about getting chased by vampires.

He had slept through the entire thing – quite comfortably, too – but that was probably why the others decided that he would be the one to watch her on the way back to Falkreath. Probably to make sure she didn't stab herself in the foot or something.

It was dawn now and they needed to head out after breakfast, but he decided to give her some time to sleep while he finished packing up his things – wasn't like she had to pack anything up, anyways. _Hopefully, the girl won't slow us up too much… never know when Siddgeir decides that we're on time limits_.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The first thing Evelyn felt when she woke up was exhaustion. She could barely move her legs at all, and she probably had some seriously raw skin and blisters on her feet. But she was alive. She relaxed back into the ground and went over her memories – she could vaguely remember running into a little clearing with a fire…

She jerked as something tapped her shoulder, twisting around to see the party responsible.

Or at least tried to. Her side cramped up near immediately and her legs were nonresponsive. Evelyn settled for slowly twisting her neck to see the newcomer. He was wearing some sort of medieval armor – chainmail, if her eyes didn't deceive her – and he had a sheathed short sword in one hand and a wooden shield in the other. The shield was painted blue with a silver stylized deer head that looked strangely familiar.

"Greetings, miss, you gave us quite the scare last night."

She stared for a moment. "Where am I?"

"Falkreath, miss, or at least you will be once we head back up to the town."

_Falkreath. Wasn't that… A city in Skyrim? Why would someone name a place after a video game city? _

_What is this place? First vampires, now Falkreath… what next? Will dragons start raining from the sky or something? _She scoffed to herself._ No. I can't be in Skyrim. Video games aren't real - they can't just **become** real, either._

The man cleared his throat. "Well, miss, we let you sleep in quite a bit, but you need to get up and eat some breakfast before we set out – it's already past dawn." Evelyn turned toward the light. The sun was indeed already past the horizon line. By a millimeter.

While he got up to leave, she saw the shield in a different light. _ The deer was the symbol of Falkreath, wasn't it? And I know that there are definitely no vampires where I'm from… what if I __am__ in Skyrim?_

She needed to get up to observe more of her surroundings. _I could also simply have landed in some Jurassic Park type attraction for die-hard Elder Scroll Fans – There might even be some fake Vault 101 somewhere nearby if the owners wanted to capitalize on space. _ With a hint of an amused smirk, Evelyn tried to get herself up – to no avail. Her muscles were more tired than she could ever remember them being.

After a few seconds of her struggling to get her body to respond, the guard came back and helped her onto her feet – and then again when her knees buckled. She was mortified at essentially needing to be dragged off of the ground – _I'm not **that** old, this should be easy – _but eventually decided that it would be extreme stupidity to try to go it alone and fall in some horse dung or something. So she accepted the occasional bit of help from her apparent babysitter.

After a quick meal of steaming porridge and wadded bread, the group was off.

* * *

**Later**

* * *

Every. Goshdarned step. Was a nightmare. _I will not fall over. I will not fall over. Just need to stick one step. After. The other. And it. Will be. Fine. All fine. And then. I. can rest._ A ragged breath came and went with each part of her mental mantra, but she kept on trudging.

She felt like she was doing pretty well, only stumbling a few times, but no one noticed as far as she could see. They kept on traveling throughout the day, stopping for a quick meal around midday before resuming the trek._ Hopefully, we will arrive at 'Falkreath' soon, because I don't think that I'll be able to keep this up for much longer._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Jyrod was thankful that the girl had finally remembered his name. He was not a "sir," it sounded too formal to him. And, after a bit of prying from Gistir, they figured out that her name was Evelyn. An unusual name for an Imperial, but who was he to judge.

The sun was getting low in the sky, but they were almost to Falkreath, so they would hike until reaching the town. They probably wouldn't make Falkreath until after sundown though. While the girl was doing better than expected, she was still slowing them down.

Jyrod checked behind him again. _Aye, she's hasn't fallen on her face... Yet._

Back to marching.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The sun dropped below the horizon and the cold set in, and all of Evelyn's limbs were numb. She almost didn't realize when they had reached the city walls, walking through the gate with little reaction.

She regained awareness when they all entered a giant hall. There was a throne at the far end, but most importantly – it was warm. She could already feel herself thawing.

With the return of feeling, she realized that she was much more tired than she had been in the morning._ It seems that a days-worth of straight trudging along will do that to you. _

She felt a bit better when she saw that most of her traveling companions looked fatigued as well. The leader of the group -_Gistir, was it?_\- stepped up to the man on the throne and began a long report. She tuned him out after the sixth mention of 'mine' and then tried to stay awake by counting the number of people in the hall. The problem was that she kept on getting different answers. She shuffled from foot to foot as she counted again.

She heard someone new speak up and turned back to the group. They were looking at her. Was she supposed to say something? "…Hi?..." More talking and gesturing, a woman was in the discussion now, but she couldn't focus on what was being said for the life of her.

The meanings slipped through her grasp. She tried biting her lip and then pinching herself but nothing was helping. She tried to be very still and keep her head up, only to realize that standing still is much harder than it looks. When Evelyn felt one of her legs begin to give, she course-corrected to avoid falling, but then had to correct herself again so that she didn't fall to the other side. It all devolved into a mess of trying to make sure she was standing straight.

A tap on her shoulder. Focusing hard, Evelyn saw it was the woman. She was smiling. Thankfully, it was more of a friendly smile - not like Hert's. She shivered at the memory.

As if walking through a haze she was led out of the building and through the streets. They entered another building a little bit later - this one was warmer than the first.

The woman then led her into a room with a bed, which she all but collapsed on top of. _No more walking for a long time..._ The door was just closing when Evelyn fell asleep.


	4. End of Denial

**Chapter Four: End of Denial**

* * *

Evelyn woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing.

She would open her eyes if she didn't feel so terrible. _This is getting really old. Can't I wake up feeling good for once? _Her body felt like it had been stuck in a tumble dryer. She was in a bed – rustic and smelly – but it was a bed all the same. She worked up the willpower to open her eyes.

A tiny wooden room presented itself. The walls were bare, and there was a little table off to the side of the bed. _Small and cozy and not outside… Am I really in Falkreath? Is this some kind of twisted joke? Falkreath is a town in Skyrim – a game, not real life. Maybe I can ask whoever lives here about where I really am once I get up for the day._

Evelyn stopped trying to stand up when she realized that she could barely move without pain. She felt like absolute trash. _A little more sleep can't hurt anything._

A low growl from her stomach made her reconsider her goals for resting, however, and she forced herself to roll over. _I was laying in furs? _ Her stomach dropped and she began to go over the possibility that she might really be in Skyrim. _No. This must be some brilliantly elaborate practical joke. _She hugged herself tightly._ Great. That doesn't sound convincing at all, and who in their right mind would spend however much money it would take to get a full-sized "Falkreath and woods" set up and running?_

This place was real. But maybe it was just a strange coincidence that it was named after a Skyrim town. _Skyrim's been out for a while, if there were any new 'medieval' living type communities they might have decided to use the name._

_…__But copyright laws, and those cannibals with sharpened teeth… something is up, and I need to figure out what it is and go home! _

With that goal in mind, she was able to power through getting herself sitting on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. She was all ready to stand up except for those legs, which were still numb and weak. _Pain is just weakness leaving the body, right?_

She grabbed the edge of the bed and stood.

And then promptly fell back onto the bed, wincing.

_This weakness… I'll let it stay for a bit. At least I'm not being chased by anything._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The girl was a mystery. She had come in only last night with the group of guards sent on patrol by Siddgeir, and Valga was honestly surprised that the girl – Evelyn – had managed to keep up. She had obviously been on her last legs, and Valga would let her stay for a day or two to recover from whatever was ailing her. Poor thing was probably exhausted, and she would need some food in her belly to start recovering her strength.

It was well past breakfast, but no one should be looking for a drink when it wasn't even midday yet, so she decided to bring the girl some food. Grabbing a bowl filled with lukewarm porridge, Valga slipped over to her new guest's room.

* * *

The girl was up, and she was a mess. Bags under her eyes and covered in dirt and grime, the girl looked like she could use some porridge. And a wash. _Is that a branch in her hair?_

The girl seemed cautious, but she accepted the porridge well enough. Valga went and got her some proper clothes to wear while she was working on her meal – _can't have her wandering about the town in her undergarments._

"So… where am I?" "…You are in Falkreath, miss Evelyn, in Dead Man's Drink to be precise." The girl gave her a suspicious look. "Yes… and where is Falkreath? Are we in Europe? Or Asia? America? Or-"

"What in Oblivion are you talking about? We're in Falkreath. In southern Skyrim…" Valga blinked, looking at the girl again. She **was** rather roughed-up. "You must have hit your head at some point, I'll be back with Zaria, just put on some clothes and stay here until then."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

It was impossible. How could she be in Skyrim? _It's a computer game, it can't be real!_

But the "computer game" was staring her in the face. She was in a rustic inn. The air smelled like bread and alcohol. There was no sign of any technology more advanced than the water wheel anywhere. _How did this happen?_

Reviewing her memories, she decided that she must have hit her head when she fell off the roof and was currently dreaming up this entire scenario. The only problem with that idea was that she didn't think dreams were supposed to be so painful – the vampire lady's tackle had hurt. Evelyn spent a few minutes debating before she decided to formulate some tests to figure out whether or not she was in a dream. _The scientific method shall save the day!_

_Ok. So… I can feel pain, but that could just be leftover pain from falling translating to pain in my dream. So far nothing has exceeded my previous knowledge of the game, so a good test would be to see if there was more information in this place than the computer game itself. _

_…It would have to be a large difference because 'new information' could just be my brain rationalizing something, or coming up with an idea of its own. I have had some weird dreams before. _She made up her mind to test this new world.

After only a brief amount of time, though, Evelyn was back to worrying.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when the older woman came back in with another person. The newcomer was a Redguard - if this truly was Skyrim. The woman from before was probably an Imperial, but she wasn't certain.

A stern look from the Imperial reminded her that she still hadn't changed into the itchy-looking dress. Evelyn was dreading the loss of her comfy shorts and t-shirt.

* * *

"Hello, miss Evelyn, my name is Zaria. I'm going to check you over to make sure that you're healthy. Just let me check your head…" the new woman explained as she looked over Evelyn's head. A few moments later and Zaria had not found anything wrong. "Do you have any family nearby?" Evelyn shook her head. "What is your given name? We could contact the officials so that your relatives can be located."

Evelyn thought about it. _I don't really think that my family exists in this world, but hey, why not?_ She looked up at Zaria, "Evelyn Anne Gray. That is my full name."

Zaria nodded "We'll write a note inquiring about your family to send to the Imperial garrison. They should be able to locate them." Zaria stood up and looked her in the eye. "Why don't you stay in Falkreath until we get a reply? I'm sure you could find work somewhere around here until then." With that, she tapped the other woman on the shoulder and they left the room. Evelyn could hear low voices outside her door, but not what they were saying. _Probably about what they're going to do with me._

Evelyn decided to take advantage of the time and worked on standing up. It took a little while, but she was eventually standing loosely next to the wall. The two women were still deep in conversation from what she could hear, so she changed into her new outfit. It was thankfully simple - no corsets or excessive amounts of lace.

She knocked on the door when she was finished, and the woman introduced herself as Valga before leading her outside. Apparently, Zaria had already left.

"What trade do you practice?" "What trade?" "Yes, what do you do for a living?" _Um… What would she do if I told her the truth? 'I study.' Heh, No. That won't work. Better go for the closest thing to my major possible – chemistry._ "I was studying alchemy, but I have only recently begun learning – I'm afraid I only know a few tidbits of information."

Valga was thoughtful as she led Evelyn outside. "I'll get one of the guards to show you Zaria's shop – it's called 'Grave Concoctions;' she'll get you put to work in no time."

The older woman looked around for a moment before calling a man over. After Valga explained the situation, he nodded and then began leading her off farther into the city.

* * *

This Falkreath was definitely a city, or at least more so than the game version.

Where the game only had a handful of buildings, here there were shops and houses everywhere. Evelyn felt out of place, tagging along after the guard like a lost puppy.

His name was Delxeon, and he seemed to enjoy showing her around. It took them a solid 15 minutes or so to walk all the way to Zaria's shop in the main square, but he managed to keep up a continuous description of Falkreath the entire time. He would point out a shop or wave at someone he knew every minute or so. She saw the general goods store, Gray Pine Goods, as well as a few street vendors that Delxeon thought had particularly fine meats or produce.

While the impromptu tour was interesting, Evelyn knew that she would forget most of Delxeon's information by tomorrow. Hopefully, she'd be able to ask around for directions until she learned her way around Falkreath.

* * *

After arriving in the main square, the friendly guard had pointed her towards Grave Concoctions before walking off elsewhere. He had get back to his patrolling, he explained.

She made it only a few steps before meandering to a stop.

Suddenly feeling strange, Evelyn looked at the stalls around her. There were people going about their daily business in all sorts of clothing.

She felt her hands go clammy when she looked closer at the people walking around the market.

Pointed ears and angular faces. There were **elves**.

She froze when a wood elf brushed past her. He looked at her curiously before going over to a stall filled with hay and reeds. A glance to her left showed a dark elf couple picking out bunches of multicolored flowers, red eyes -_**red eyes**_\- scrutinizing each and every petal before adding to their basket.

A guard was leaning against a building, chatting with a green man -_orc_\- in fine clothes. She pinched herself.

Nothing changed.

She looked closer, desperately trying to find evidence of wigs or makeup.

But there were no gaps in anyone's appearance - she could see the stitching in each dress. The varying buttons on each person's outfit. An orc nearby had a large burn scar covering his right shoulder. Evelyn looked away quickly before he could notice her staring.

Each leaf in a nearby bush rippled differently in the breeze. She looked up to see twin crescents in the sky. Two moons. And she could make out craters on the larger one's surface.

The facts were glaringly obvious now. She couldn't see herself imagining all of this in a dream - especially not to this level of detail.

It was final. She was somehow stuck in Tamriel. _How am I going to get back?_

Evelyn looked back to the Apothecary. _I need to figure out how to return home, and there's no way to get anywhere without moving._ She walked to the door. _Well, first things first. __I should learn something useful to make a living here. Unlike in the game, eating and sleeping **are** mandatory for survival. I need to start taking this seriously._

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn entered the store.


	5. Adjustment and Acclimation

**Chapter Five: Adj****ustment and Acclimation**

* * *

**About three weeks later,**

**8th of Second Seed, 4E 201, Fredas**

* * *

Evelyn was excited. Today was going to be a great day, she could feel it already!

Today was her day off - her first in the three weeks or so since she started helping Zaria. She had made sure that Zaria wouldn't need help before hiking up to the mountain. The alchemist had listened to about a minute of Evelyn's well-planned argument for a vacation before interrupting to get to the point.

To make a long story short, Evelyn was forbidden from working for the day. Zaria was, apparently, a firm believer in having time off.

Evelyn knew she was going to take a while, so she didn't mind being essentially kicked out of the apothecary for the day. Interestingly enough, she already felt more productive than all those past days of collecting and preparing ingredients. She stretched her legs out and inhaled, looking out over the treetops. _So peaceful._

_Ok. Now for the first step in the 'plan to get out of Tamriel.'_

The forest smelled especially good today, in her humble opinion – pine wood and evergreen needles. She could hear the waterfall behind her pounding the mountainside. _And... Exhale_. She breathed in deeply again. _I'll need to be calm cool and collected for this to work out, so..._ She counted to ten before slowly exhaling. _And if it **does** work -_

Evelyn grinned, thinking about her schedule for the day. Her heartbeat sped up._ Too fast. I need to remain calm._ _Those plans are moot if I can't figure this out_.

* * *

The was a rustling in the trees next to her, so she peeked open an eye.

A rabbit was staring at her curiously. She thought back to Skyrim's rabbit haunch food item. _That little ball of fluff is lucky that I'm not a hunter. _She rose an eyebrow at it. _Just going to sit there and stare, are you? _She waved at it.

Nose sniffling, the rabbit almost looked insulted as it hopped off into the wilds.

She smiled to herself, and relaxed into the stone as the sun rose in the sky, breathing in and out as slowly as she dared. It was pleasantly warm with the sunlight heating her meditation rock. Another deep breath as a hawk flew overhead. _You're too late, friend, lunch just hopped away a moment ago._

She let her breath out. _Slowly. And don't forget posture - Runil said that it's important._

* * *

After some time, her patience was rewarded.

_I can feel it! It wasn't a fluke!_ A tiny spark of energy, deep inside her. _Finally!_

She beamed back at the sun, but then the ball of energy became clouded and difficult to feel.

_Ah! Sorry! _She stilled herself and focused inwards again. _Please come back._

She breathed in deeply. Then exhaled. _And now repeat._

The teeny tiny mote of light resolidified in her mind's eye and her chest warmed up from the inside. She kept it there for a few seconds.

_Now, for the **real** test..._

She thought about the light coming to rest in her palm, and raised her hand upwards - **focusing** on making that orb come into reality. She thought as hard as possible about it coming to the surface, shining its light.

For a moment, she thought she could see her hand glow, filling her with the warmth of success.

Then the light was gone and that feeling slipped away like forgotten memories.

But Evelyn was fine with that - she had made progress. Or, more specifically, she had made enough progress.

Enough progress for Runil.

She grinned ear to ear and picked up her satchel.

After the results of that test, she was certain that today was going to be amazing.

Because today she would learn magic.

* * *

It had taken begging, pleading, even the odd gopher trip to deliver flowers to gravestones. But she had convinced Runil to teach her some of what he knew.

And she had saved up enough coin to buy a spell tome from Solaf, too.

The plan Runil agreed to was that she would provide the tome, and he would explain and teach her the necessary skills to use it.

She could always just randomly buy spell tomes, but Evelyn was pretty sure that learning spells would be harder than the read-and-cast-immediately method from the game. She wanted to stack the odds in her favor as much as possible. This was **magic**, after all.

The largest problem had been her apparent lack of magical energy, but through the power of stubbornness and countless hours of meditating, she had managed to get a basic sense of where her magicka was. The little ball of light.

It was a tiny amount, definitely not enough energy to light a candle, but it was hers. She had been able to cast **something** up near the waterfall, so there was hope that she'd get better at it over time.

She would train herself to be able to use it to its fullest capabilities. _Look out, Skyrim! I'm gonna light matches with my mind!_

* * *

Really. Evelyn was excited - every few steps down the mountain trail was a skip.

She jogged through Falkreath to Gray Pine Goods, waving back at Delxeon when he passed by on patrol. At the door, she tried to smooth out the grin on her face – barely succeeding, but succeeding nonetheless.

She did a double-take when she saw Solaf talking with his brother Bolund, though.

_Yikes. Best wait for them to finish up_. She couldn't remember the last time she saw Bolund in the shop; he didn't like anyone other than his brother as far as she could tell.

Evelyn closed the door behind her softly and made a beeline for the bookshelves. The spell tomes would be secured behind the counter, but there was no way she was going to interrupt Bolund. He was a mountain of a man, and she didn't think he'd welcome her even if she had lived in Falkreath her entire life, let alone the measly three weeks she'd been here so far. The only things he had ever said to her were "imperial" and "move," in varying combinations.

She checked the shelves. _No new books on magic or riddles… Now I need to act interested until Bolund leaves. There is **no** way that I'm leaving here without a spell tome to learn._

Luckily, time flew as Evelyn looked over the books. A few of them were titles she already owned, such as the Skyrim traveler's guide, and others were ones that she had decided were too expensive or pointless to justify buying. Solaf's entire set of "Kolb" books was a good example of both.

"Kolb and the Sabre Cat, Kolb and the Giant, ...the Bear, ...Dragon, Falmer...?" She reread the last title. Sure enough, it read "Kolb and the Falmer." Pulling it out, it showed a -poorly drawn- image of a goblin. Raising an eyebrow, she placed the book back on the shelf. She peeked a glance back to the counter. Bolund was still deep in conversation with Solaf.

She moved back to the nonfiction section and browsed. _At least this isn't the DMV - there are books here to check out._

She didn't think it was possible to be bored so long as there were books to read. The game books didn't cover anywhere near the amount of written material in Skyrim, let alone Tamriel, so she was always finding titles she had never heard of before. She had found both pamphlets and ten-pound tomes being sold around town, but mainly stuck to buying the cheaper (and lighter) books during her stay.

How could she turn down such a wealth of information?

* * *

Bolund and Solaf eventually reached a conclusion in their talk, with Solaf straightening the clothes on display as Bolund stomped away. Evelyn was up and at the counter only a second or two after the door slammed shut behind the grumpy nord, excitement back in full force.

Solaf was surprised at first, and then he remembered her past ramblings. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So, you're finally going to try… how did you put it last week… thinking stuff on fire?" She nodded quickly. "I'm assuming you're looking for the more basic tomes?" - _No question about it. - _"Definitely."

He pulled out four books for her to choose from. Multicolored and shimmering, if her eyes were working correctly, the stack looked like it was dribbled over with glowstick fluid - each book reflected new colors when in the light. "Just let me know which one you want."

They were **awesome**. _I can see why they need to be kept under the counter._

While she was admiring the covers, Solaf chatted to fill the silence. "This is all I've got right now, some Kahjiit came through a week before you arrived and cleared me out of the more… dangerous spells."

Evelyn was staring at the covers. _Are the words... glowing?_

Solaf frowned briefly before continuing his spiel. "I feel like that cat was just waiting to steal something…"

He was either oblivious to or ignoring the fact that Evelyn had stopped listening. She had zoned out the moment the books were placed on the table. _Yep. The writing on the covers is glowing. So cool._

"...He'd've never gotten past my gaze if he tried..."

She checked the titles and skimmed through the first few pages of each. It seemed that she could choose between candlelight, clairvoyance, conjure familiar, and oakflesh. _Choices, choices... But... __With how much larger the real Skyrim is compared to the game, I definitely don't want to get lost..._

"How much for the clairvoyance?"

Solaf looked up. "50 gold, and it's the most expensive out of the four."

Evelyn's grin widened. It was cheaper than she had expected. _I must have overheard him selling higher level tomes that one time, I've saved enough money to buy **two** of these! _She looked over the book covers again and then turned to Solaf.

"May I buy the clairvoyance and candlelight, please?"

* * *

After securing her spell tomes in her bag, Evelyn made her way to the cemetery.

_I've got my textbooks, now I just need to find my teacher_.

* * *

The walk to the cemetery was relatively silent and solemn, and while it didn't go away completely, her excitement was definitely muted by the still air around her. It seemed that Arkay truly was influencing the area around Falkreath, bringing peace and quiet to the honored dead.

But Evelyn wasn't here to mourn or pay her respects, she was here to learn. She walked between headstones and monuments, following the winding path to the temple of Arkay. Runil shouldn't be busy at this time of day, with no recent deaths and the festivities of the Second Planting Festival (if one could call them festivities in Falkreath) finishing up yesterday.

She could see the Hall of the Dead now; it was surrounded by graves. She noted that the dark elf couple was sitting off in the distance, paying their respects to one of the larger monuments. They didn't look up when Evelyn strode up to the only building in sight and knocked on the door.

Runil answered the door with a kind greeting and gestured for her to wait while he gathered his things. A few minutes later and they were both settled on a patch of clear ground. Evelyn wasn't sure that they weren't on top of someone's burial site, but Runil assured her that they wouldn't be bothering anyone here. She decided to take his word for it rather than worry.

They meditated for an hour or so before Runil seemed satisfied. She was ready to learn.

Evelyn decided to start with clairvoyance - she needed to find some way to get home, after all - and pulled out the tome.

He gave her a strange look when she first opened the red book and asked for what to do, but got over it quickly and instructed her to read aloud.

Turning to the first page, she started reading. Every now and then, Runil would interrupt her to show her the proper form for casting the spell. The book gave descriptions, but there were no drawings or diagrams for finger placement or proper pronunciation. _I'm **very** happy that I got Runil to help with this_. He never had her try to cast the spells, but he did go over the proper methods of casting for each. _So many hand positions and things to memorize!_

Runil would also - rather randomly, in her opinion - speak up and advise her to continue meditating in order to connect more with her magicka. She would nod along, trying to ignore the fact that he had given that same advice three times already.

Dealing with repetition was a small price to pay for free magic lessons.

* * *

As the sky darkened, Runil spoke calmly. "I believe that our time today is at an end. You know what you need to begin studying these," He gestured to the multicolored books, "on your own."

Evelyn looked up from her reading with wide eyes. The day had passed far too quickly for her tastes. She had managed to learn a few more forms of the clairvoyance spell, but only barely started on the candlelight tome. _But I did learn quite a bit._ _I didn't know that clairvoyance can be more effective if you mentally specify whether the object you're looking for is large or small. _

He stood with leisurely grace as she shook the sleep out of her legs. "While I would be happy to continue to help you learn, you need to be able to study independently if you are to succeed in magicks." He grinned softly. "Not all of your teachers will have the time to instruct you individually." Evelyn nodded and rolled to her feet. She could practice in her free time now that she had a grasp of what casting spells would require.

"And meditate. Do not forget to meditate." She stopped herself from smirking. _As if I could forget after all his repetition drilled that into my head._

"If you ever require assistance, though, please do not worry about bothering me - I am always glad to assist in what ways I can."

She smiled and thanked Runil again before walking to Falkreath.

The entire way, she was breathing slowly, trying to reach her little ball of magic.


	6. Flying the Nest

**Chapter Six: Flying the Nest**

* * *

**8th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Middas**

**(61 days after the events of Chapter 5)**

* * *

Evelyn woke up late, as always, and rolled out of bed._ Ugh... I still haven't gotten used to waking up without an alarm clock._ Even if her phone hadn't died a month and a half ago, there was no way that she could risk people freaking out over the air horn alarm. Drawing attention to herself would not be good for her plans.

After changing into her daily wear, she pocketed an apple from the fruit bowl and walked into the shop. She waited until Zaria had finished measuring ingredients. "What's the list for today?" Zaria was now inspecting the glass vials for cracks.

"Nightshade and mountain flowers, the usual. But try to pick up some more fish as well. I used my last river betty yesterday."

She nodded. "Will do." Evelyn picked up the wicker basket and a clean rag. She would get the flowers first - before the sun rose any higher.

* * *

As Zaria had said many times, each plant collected should be at a perfect state of ripeness - neither wilting nor budding. With that in mind, Evelyn scanned the bush in front of her, focusing on the handful or so violet flowers in full bloom. She was determined to get it right after the fiasco that was her first day on the job, when Zaria had sent her out to collect red mountain flowers.

She had returned, dutifully, with a satchel-full of them. But the first thing Zaria did was throw them out. Evelyn's collection was of "bad" quality, unripe and unfit for proper potion-making. Ingredients like hers were often responsible for weakening potions and causing uncomfortable side effects. And to add icing on the cake, she had also somehow managed to smear the different flowers together in the satchel, diluting their properties even further.

Evelyn had just picked up the first wildflowers she saw on the side of the road. _A child's mistake._ Zaria had likely thought Evelyn a hopeless novice, but took pity and let her continue working.

Suitably chastised, Evelyn had then made it her goal to master this one little thing - flower picking. She would analyze each flower and figure out where all of the bushes were. If she knew their locations, then she could keep notes and monitor their growth. It would help her figure out where to go for the closest suitably ripe flowers, as well as which areas to let recover after recently being harvested. A good alchemist should be able to harvest ingredients without depleting the population, according to what she overheard from Zaria.

And keeping such detailed notes helped pass the time. _There isn't much to do with Zaria convinced that I'm a total beginner. Just flower picking and collecting deliveries. ...But I **do** get paid, so I shouldn't be complaining too much._

_The only thing that kept her from kicking me out at the beginning was likely my knowledge of a few of the rarer potion recipes - it's hard to play months worth of the game without picking up some ways to burn through the random ingredients found as loot._ She hummed to herself. _I'd really like to figure out how to brew some of my favorite potions, though._

Her face greened as she imagined herself trying to put a giant's toe into the alchemy equipment. _On second thought, I might pass on that._

She shook her head and shuffled to the next patch on her list. It hadn't been harvested for two months, so it should stay healthy after losing a few branches.

Evelyn shifted her weight and pulled her little dagger out. It was dull, but it got the job done. She cut the nightshade flowers away from their small bush. Placing them gently in her wicker basket, she wiped her dagger on the rag. _That's it for the flowers, now for the fish_.

* * *

Returning to Zaria's shop, Evelyn emptied the basket.

She set aside the fish and split the flowers into their own little piles before moving in on the mound of red flowers. She let her mind drift as she pulled the petals away from the stems. _Wonder when Zaria is going to let me do more around the shop. I feel like I've gotten pretty respectable at gathering ingredients by now. Is there more that I need to learn? _Finishing her first flower, she set aside the stem and pulled another out from the pile.

Insecurities reared their heads as she worked.

_She can't just have me play gopher forever, can she? _

Evelyn thought back to her recent interactions with Zaria.

* * *

_"Have you collected that shipment I told you about?" Zaria asked. She was smiling thinly - it looked forced. Evelyn hefted the full sack of ingredients into view. The redguard was silent for a long moment._

_"Good. That'll help." She paused again before moving back over to the alchemy lab. Evelyn stood in silence in the entryway, at a loss of what to do. _

_"...You could go get some more mountain flowers? One can never have too many healing potions." Zaria sounded... uncertain. Almost awkward. _

_With a quick "sure," Evelyn turned to the door and left._

* * *

Now, Evelyn looked at the storeroom. There were too many healing potions.

There were baskets with flower pollen in varying stages of preservation, and jars of flower sap - all neatly labeled. From how quickly potion brewing seemed to go, working through all of these would take years.

Evelyn looked at the flower petals she was sweeping into another basket. They needed to dry for at least a week before the chemicals would be fully potent. She set it next to six other baskets. Each of them done about a week apart. And there had been seven yesterday.

_Zaria must be trying to use them up before they get stale_. Evelyn started rolling the stems out - to collect the sap. _She didn't tell me they could go bad._

She looked back at the potions - there were definitely too many. She'd only seen a dozen or two sold since she started working, and there were far more than that simply sitting back here in storage.

Evelyn moved onto the next pile of flowers - the blues.

_This must be why Zaria has been busy so much... She needs to use up the ingredients I collect before they lose potency, and I just keep piling up the work. Why hasn't she said anything?_

She stewed on that thought while she finished up the flowers and moved onto descaling and filleting the fish. Evelyn made sure to do this part properly, even if it was a little bit disgusting. These were the ingredients Zaria **actually** needed, of course.

Evelyn made sure to clean her knives and the worktable thoroughly. No existing germ theory didn't mean that germs didn't exist in Tamriel.

* * *

With a few hours left before the evening meal, Evelyn figured she had enough time to hike up to the waterfall.

The forest was warm, courtesy of summertime weather, but it would start getting colder once the sun set. She didn't want to be up here when the chilly weather came, but the location was perfect for meditation.

She plopped down and relaxed, locating her little ball of light relatively quickly. Evelyn was proud to say that it had grown some since she began. Once a tiny mote, now it felt golfball-sized. She twisted her hand into the signs for clairvoyance and focused on finding the waterfall.

A wispy line of light left her hand and looped towards the falling water. It lasted for a heartbeat or two before disappearing.

_I just love it when all goes according to plan._ Evelyn's eyes were blurry now, but she was able to keep the spell up for a much longer time now than she could in the first few weeks. Her mind felt hazy in the way she'd come to relate with magicka exhaustion. It didn't tire her limbs out so much as it made it very difficult to think about anything in particular. Focusing was impossible when you ran out of magicka.

Evelyn tried the spell out a few more times before the sky shifted into reds and oranges. She squeezed in one final try and then stood up to go. She reflected on her questions from earlier while walking down the path.

_There is no argument that my "help" is not as helpful as I had thought... Zaria had managed fine without an assistant until my arrival. Why is she putting up with me?_

_Why **am** I still here? I can practice magic for the entry exam on the way up north if I really need to. And I already know that the soldiers are not going to find any family of mine here in Tamriel. _She frowned.

_ I got too comfortable here in Falkreath, picking up a book or two every few weeks._

_I should start making plans for leaving soon, preferably before Zaria gets buried under all the extra ingredients. Still, I don't want to blindside her by leaving unannounced. I'm going to the College of Winterhold at some point, but she doesn't know that._

* * *

How would she explain her need to get to Winterhold? The only thing up there was the College, and she couldn't cast anything other than a second or two of clairvoyance - she wouldn't pass the entrance exam.

_But still, I can't tell them that I need to ask the Arch-Mage about interdimensional travel, and nobody here knows that the Augur of Dunlain even exists! I can't tell them the exact reasoning for my upcoming trip, but I do need **something**. Even in this time and place, I think running away without explanation is frowned upon._

She inched her way down a particularly steep incline.

_And, how will I get there? The shortest path leads through Helgen, and I still can't remember the date of Alduin's return. It could be any day now and I don't want to run into a giant dragon if I can avoid it._

The last thought brought up another.

_Wait. What if I'm the Dragonborn? And traveling along the road will lead to me getting caught "trying to cross the border?"_

Evelyn thought about her past experiences with the land of Skyrim.

_Haha...no. I'm not the Dragonborn, everything is easy for them. Until recently, I didn't even know how to pick flowers correctly._

And, compared to Skyrim natives, she had the arm strength of a child. Evelyn couldn't lift any of the barrels in Zaria's shop, while the woman herself routinely reordered and reorganized them with little effort. _I'm fairly certain that I saw a little old lady the other day with more muscle mass in one of her wrinkly arms than I have in my entire body._

* * *

**10th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Fredas**

**Merchant's Festival**

* * *

Evelyn walked around Falkreath, unsure of how she was going to tell Zaria that she would be leaving soon. She hadn't figured out the exact day, but she did know that she'd be buying her supplies today. It was the Merchant's Festival today.

Zaria had let her take a day off, telling her to "go and buy a treat or something, some stalls might have discounts today." Evelyn noticed that she made no comment on the fact that she had taken over half the week off by now. She felt sheepish. _I did try collecting less and less, but maybe that just made Zaria think I couldn't find enough?_ She shook herself out of her musings. _Too late to course-correct now._

She had left the shop just as a man in light imperial armor entered to buy some potions. Guards always wanted healing or stamina potions for the road. _At least gathering too much gives you flexibility. Too little ingredients just restricts._ Evelyn was happy that at least Zaria was getting business today to work through her full stores.

Drifting along the road, she paused outside Gray Pine Goods. _Do I really need more books? I'm going to have to carry them all the way to Winterhold, and I've already got more than I can carry easily._ She frowned in thought before sighing.

_What's one or two more books?_

* * *

She left the store an hour later with a worn-out green book. Another book of riddles and puzzles to add to her collection. Her splurge for the week.

Another hour of walking around town left her coinpurse significantly lighter - she was down to 75 septims - but she had gathered the necessary travel goods. A bedroll, another water flask, a light daypack, some fishing gear, some miscellaneous odds-and-ends, and a travel chest for her books. She couldn't just take Zaria's storage chest.

Evelyn stewed as she meandered back to Grave Concoctions with her chest of goodies. She'd have to explain her plans to Zaria, but it would be obvious with a travel chest that she meant to leave. _It would be best to get the talk over with sooner rather than later._

She entered to find Zaria looking uncomfortable. _Did I walk in on something__?_

Evelyn looked around the room briefly, seeing no other people inside.

It was quiet. _I need to tell her._ She took a halting breath.

"Thank you so much for letting me work for you! These past weeks have been better than I could have hoped for... " She rambled on some more, feeling decidedly awkward, but pushing forward anyways. "But... I feel like I need to go - to see the world." _Not a lie, but not the full truth, either._ "Or, at least, the rest of Skyrim,"_ I do **want** to see the world, but I **need** to see if the college has any idea how I ended up here_. Evelyn took a deep breath to calm herself. "I was just thinking that I might possibly leave Falkreath to go see places and stuff..." Evelyn trailed off.

_I hope she's not insulted that I want to leave_.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

_That was easier than expected._ Zaria thought._ And Evelyn picked the perfect day to tell me._ "That is fine." The girl was very still. "The courier that you saw earlier came to inform you about the request we sent for your parents. No one responded. I'm afraid that your parents either aren't aware, or..." Evelyn didn't look very surprised. She had a grim look on her face. _Oh._

"You already knew that they wouldn't respond, didn't you."

There was a slight inclination of her head, her eyes pointed down. "I wasn't certain, but I was pretty sure that they weren't going to be... here." She shifted in place._ They must have died recently - probably bandits or forsworn, those savages._

"I still need to go." She was adamant, and not all that incorrect. The girl didn't belong here. She was a bit too peppy for Falkreath's tastes - they already had to deal with Delxeon, nobody really wanted **more** of him running about. It took a certain kind of person to feel at home in a place as touched by death as Falkreath, and Evelyn wasn't one of those people. _It's definitely for the best._

"I think I can help you pack up some of your things." She gestured to the girl's trunk with a wry smirk. "And it looks like you've already gotten the necessities." _She had the sense enough to buy these at discounts._ "Where will you try first?" The girl replied confidently - She would travel to Whiterun. _The trading hub is a good choice._

They walked to the girl's belongings and began packing. _I think she'll be fine._

* * *

**11th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Loredas**

* * *

The recent Merchant's Festival ended up being more opportune than Evelyn had expected. One of the caravans was scheduled to make a stop at Whiterun, so all she needed to do was drop her chest on a wagon and pull her weight while they all traveled. She'd have to supply her own food or pay for it herself, but the gold she paid for the trip would secure at least her luggage's wellbeing until reaching the city. She was down to 65 septims though, and she would need fifty of those for passage to Winterhold. _I might need to get a temporary job before going to the Mages College._

With the steady pace the carriages set, the caravan leader estimated that they would pass through Riverwood in five days, and reach Whiterun a week after that. Weather permitting, of course. It was nearing the end of Summer months, but rainy days were still relatively common as far south as they were in Skyrim.

Luckily for her, they were traveling along the river road, so she could fish for food. _Thank you, summer camp for teaching me "useless outdoorsy skills." I need to thank my parents for forcing me through them when I get back._

Evelyn purposefully ignored the other, deeper, thought - the one she dreaded acknowledging - _**if** I get back._


	7. Border Patrol

**Chapter Seven: Border Patrol**

* * *

**16th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

The journey so far had been **excruciatingly** boring. An endless dirt road bordered by thick trees. Every once in a while she would hop in the cart and rest, before climbing back out to allow someone else a quick nap. Rinse and repeat. The forest was gorgeous, but there was only so much silent "oohing" and "aahing" one could do before it got old. Only so many different angles of dappled light before everything looked like a photography class obsessed with green. _What I wouldn't give to have an airplane. I could be in Winterhold within a day and get the answers I need._

"Miss Evelyn!"

She rolled her eyes and turned around to greet the infamous Clautus. Known for randomly hugging his sister Aprolla, starting intense debates on the merits of sewn clothing over furs, and his all-around unpredictability. Evelyn overheard Aprolla once saying that he was lucky he was so charming, as otherwise his life would have been far shorter with all the barmaids he'd accidentally insulted. "Never underestimate someone with access to a hot skillet," she would say as she worked.

Clautus was walking elegantly up to her, examining the lacework on his sleeve as if it had offended him, and occasionally picking off invisible specks of lint. He had a bad case of hat hair. He saw her, then shifted and bowed with a flourish. "Ah, yes, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind assisting me with a small task" Evelyn leaned away as he drew closer. _I don't know about this... _"I'll pay you-" _Still no._ He smirked and looked at her sideways. "-With my sister's cooking." Evelyn stopped inching away.

_That might just do it._

She turned around. "So long as I don't have to lie or break the rules, I can do it." _No need to get kicked out of the caravan over stew - no matter **how** good that stew is._

He squinted his eyes at her. "You must not speak to anyone of this." He leaned in even closer, much to her continuing discomfort. "Can you find my hat?"

Evelyn blinked in utter confusion.

* * *

She spent the next hour or so walking around the back of the caravan with clairvoyance, trying to find Clautus' hat. _Why did I agree to this?_ _It's not like the man will die if he doesn't find his yellow hat, and everyone would probably thank the divines for sparing their eyes, too._

Then Evelyn thought about Aprolla's potato stew. And the heavenly smell that wafted out every night around dinnertime. _Oh_. _**That**. Right then, time to find this hat._ She skirted around the mercenaries in the back and recast clairvoyance. _No need for a fishy dinner tonight if I can help it._

She made sure to change search locations as slowly as was affordable, and cast her spells stealthily.

_No need to draw attention to myself, either._

* * *

She still hadn't found the hat by the time they reached Riverwood. And after running into a stopped cart, she decided to put her task on hold until she could see without dizziness. _Used up too much magicka. Wonderful._

Their arrival in Riverwood had been quiet and mostly unnoted. Evelyn gazed around the small town. Alvor was hammering something in his workshop while Faendal carried firewood across town. Other people she couldn't recognize were working around their homes on miscellaneous projects. It was more lively here than in Falkreath, but the air was just as peaceful. Though it was more of a relaxing and even-tempered peace, compared to Falkreath's respectful silence. There were children here, running about in the lazy sunshine. _I can't see any graveyards around, either._ She smiled at a passing songbird, which Clautus started a whistling match with. A young trader joined in and the bird flitted away, seeing something else of interest, so Evelyn turned her attention back to the townsfolk.

One little boy was trying to be sneaky with a sweetroll that he obviously wasn't supposed to have. Evelyn watched as he set it on a barrel and tried to crawl into the nearby bushes to hide. She and some of the traders watched as a little girl began to sneak up on her compatriot. Habel, the iron-fisted leader of the caravan, had a cheshire grin on; her hawk-eyes tracked the girl's progress as she slunk through the town. Her small stature was perfect for crawling low to the ground, and she kept to the side of nearby buildings. She froze when Faendal passed by her hiding spot, frowning slightly. The bosmer disappeared around another building and she resumed her stalking.

The girl was in position behind the barrel just as the boy got himself situated in the bush. He reached for the sweetroll and the girl leaped from her hiding spot, frightening the poor kid nearly out of his shoes. He stumbled back with a shout and got tangled up in the bushes. "Dorthe! No!" She grabbed the sweetroll he'd been guarding and sprinted off with her prize. "Too slow, Frodnar!" The boy was almost flailing with how quickly he was trying to get untangled. Frodnar called out. "Get 'er, Stump!"

A large dog ran out from under a porch and saw her running away. It was a game of chase, it seemed, that he was not going to miss out on. He sprinted to catch up with the little girl, slowing her down with his jumping and excited barking. She tried to keep the sweetroll out of his reach, but her little legs were just too short.

In the end, it was the wet dog nose that did her in. The girl tripped up trying to keep it out of her face and fell to the ground. She caught herself with her hands and wasn't hurt from what Evelyn could see, but the girl groaned audibly when she saw where the sweetroll had rolled. Evelyn was biting her lip to avoid laughing out loud.

The dog was the victor in this scuffle. He was licking all of the icing off of the dessert, rolling it around on the ground and getting the roll dirtier and dirtier. The boy was free from the bushes by then, and he jogged to catch up with her. He slowed to a resigned stop after seeing his dog. Both their shoulders were slumped with the disappointment of the lost treat. Then a voice came from the Inn.

"Frodnar! Dorthe! Where **is** that sweetroll? It's for dessert tonight!" The boy looked sheepish while the woman threatened from inside "You two better not have eaten it already." The two children looked at each other quickly, then looked back, seeing Evelyn and the merchants. They both blushed, and then the boy was off dragging the girl away from the Inn.

And out of the Inn came a smirking woman, followed by a particularly smug wood elf. She walked up to the dog and stared at his 'prey.' The dog looked up at her for a minute before resuming his feast.

"Figures." The woman waved Faendal off to collect more wood.

She looked up to the merchants, face briefly stiffening, before she smiled and drawled, "I don't suppose any of you have sweetrolls on you?"

* * *

Matter of fact, one merchant did have sweetrolls. A secret stash of them, actually, that none of his fellows had suspected. But, he was kind enough to part with one of his "treasures" for a lower price than usual, at least according to him. By the time all was said and done, though, the woman made out like a bandit. She got him to sell that sweetroll for a single septim - Mainly by playing up her belief in his kindness and goodwill. The poor guy didn't even stand a chance. Beaten at his own game and flustered to boot, the imperial was saved by a man - the woman's husband - coming out from the Inn.

He had a steaming pot in one hand and a dripping ladle in the other; his wife thanked the trader and sauntered off to finish cooking, presumably.

As she left, the trader straightened his coat out and all but ran back to his cart. He wasn't seen again until that night after leaving Riverwood.

Before they left, Evelyn took the time to cast clairvoyance one more time, just in case. The wispy silver thread trailed out of her hand and then circled around her. It would stretch in one direction but go the opposite way after a few seconds, then flicker and dissipate. _Still no hat. __Maybe I need to be able to remember whatever it is I look for in order for this to work?_ Evelyn walked out of Riverwood's gate.

She later found out that Aprolla had burned the hat that morning, deeming it a danger to her sanity.

* * *

**24th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Fredas**

* * *

Two weeks of continuous travel left Evelyn with a healthy respect for couriers, along with a serious case of impatience. _I can't get my meditation to work out here on the road and all of my books are packed up._ She was so bored that she had been driven to small talk. _Small talk:_ _the kind of conversations you typically couldn't** pay** me to take part in._

Evelyn huffed to herself. _Desperate times call for desperate measures._ With nothing to do but walk and talk, she had to do **something** with herself.

She was also getting more and more desperate to learn about how she came to be stuck in Tamriel. More specifically, how to get back to Earth. _Despite how interesting this was the first month or two, it's gone on far too long. I want to go home._

Passing large swaths of wheat and the occasional ravine, the caravan had made it to the farmland outside of Whiterun. Unfortunately, while she could see the walls of Whiterun, the traders expected at least another day of travel before reaching the city. It might even take two more days if one of the carts decided to break down again. It had seen one too many potholes, and the simple patch job a merchant gave it wasn't likely to last more than a few more days.

Evelyn was on wagon duty for the rest of the day, so she trailed alongside the wagon, checking every now and then to see if the axle was still holding up. _At least it's something to do._

There was little entertainment outside of traveling games thanks to the endless rows of crops, and many people were dying for something to happen. The caravan leader, Habel Varrorius, had set up a game of cards in a cart to pass the time. Two traders had ignored their fellows' warnings and decided to test their luck against her - with little success so far. _And from what I've seen over the past week, their luck isn't likely to change any time soon._

"Habel! Something is going on ahead!" The older woman looked up from the game. After a brief glare towards her opponents, she set her hand face down and stepped off of the cart. She nodded to one of the mercenaries and strode ahead.

Evelyn lifted her foot to go around the cart. _What is going on?_ A stern look from a mercenary reminded her that she was on axle-duty, however, and she resigned herself to watch the doomed Tamriel-style poker. The two challengers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One was a well-groomed man with salt and pepper hair; he was shuffling his hand, studiously looking anywhere but at Habel's abandoned cards. The other was a younger man staring longingly at the pile of coins in the middle of the cart. A slender hand inched towards the other side of the table.

The young man hesitated for a moment before his elder slapped his hand away. Furious whispering ensued with the young man trapped in a vice grip. A few meters away and out of the sight of the two men, Evelyn watched the mercenary slowly sheath his sword. _That was one move away from ending badly._

At the sound of loud thudding, She turned her attention away from the gamblers and towards the front. She peeked around the carriage to see guards riding up on horses. "Halt! In the name of the Jarl!" The leader of the group dismounted while those remaining on horseback held their spears stiff and straight.

The mercenaries were fingering their sword hilts but none yet had unsheathed their blades. Even twitchy by the card game was careful to keep the metal out of sight.

"What is the meaning of this?" Habel had her hands on her hips, glaring at the lead guard. "I have already been delayed too long for my tastes - we were due in Whiterun yesterday!"

The guards didn't budge from their spot. "How long have you been traveling, miss?" A woman's voice. _Sounds familiar._

"nearly a fortnight, and if we cannot get to market soon some of our more delectable wares will spoil." She inclined her head to a basket of Cyrodilic vegetables. The guards did not shift, simply standing there like walls of steel and brawn.

"I am aware of that, but first we must check your carts and passengers. How long has it been since you last passed an inn or imperial garrison?"

"Little bit over a week. Why?" The guard looked at Habel. "We stopped for midday's meal in Riverwood, but we didn't spend the night." The guard nodded. "Riverwood. That would explain it."

"Why, what is going on? We have nothing to hide, but is this really necessary?"

"That may be true, but we still need to check over your carts, Jarl Balgruuf wants to be certain that the traitor Ulfric doesn't set foot inside his city's walls" "What -" "While you were traveling, The Jarl of Windhelm murdered High King Torygg. He escaped Solitude and the Empire is focused on hunting him down before he can cause further harm." The woman gestured a few guards forward before turning back to her shocked audience. "I'm sure that you are not harboring any traitors, but this is for our peace of mind. We will examine your wares and then return to our patrol." After a brief moment, she added to her statement. "I will leave some guards with you to let you inside the gate - things are tense in the city."

_And so it begins._

"You will have to remain in Whiterun until we receive word that Ulfric has been found," The guard continued over Habel's protests. "All inter-hold travel has been halted, so that the soldiers can easily track down the traitors - this way, they can avoid worrying about accidentally chasing down a traveling caravan-" she nodded toward habel's carts "-instead of Ulfric." A pause. "It does, however, mean that you will have to stay inside the city walls until the search is over. A delay is better than an arrest."

_Wait. How am I supposed to get to Winterhold now?! It's on the Stormcloak side and I'm stuck in an Imperial lockdown now!_

She took deep breaths. _The Dragonborn will eventually come - they can't be too far from catching Ulfric at the border, and then I'll be able to leave._ Evelyn wiped a hand over her face. _I just need to survive until then. I'll be back on track soon. Hopefully._

But then she reviewed her long journey up from Falkreath. _Two weeks_. _It might take the Dragonborn less, but whoever it is might also decide to clear Bleak Falls before coming to Whiterun with the news about Alduin. But that's not even counting the time to get from the border to Helgen!_ Evelyn was staring long and hard at the ground. She thought about the Dragonborn. _Please just come straight to Whiterun, I don't want to spend any more time there than necessary - I need to get to Winterhold._

_I need answers._


	8. Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter Eight: Calm Before the Storm**

* * *

She had been expecting Whiterun to be large - but not sprawling. The 'city' from the games couldn't do the place justice. The road up to the walls -_they look so much larger in real life_\- led past countless farms, large and small. And beyond the well-tended fields lay rocky plains as far as she could see, hills and rocky outcroppings sprinkled throughout.

Out of all the hills, the one Whiterun stood on was the most massive. The truly impressive part of the city, though, was that from her point of view, it looked **dense**. In Falkreath, houses were separated by shrubbery and wild greenery, making every building and area seem removed from the rest of the city. It was peaceful and quiet, but a bit too still at times.

In Whiterun, it looked like nearly every foot of land was being used. She could see rooftops of different buildings peeking over the wall. They were crammed in tight.

She stood and stared as Habel checked in the horses and carriages at the stables, collecting her trunk after everything was unloaded. Then they entered the city.

* * *

Inside, it was easy to see that Whiterun wasn't just packed with buildings, but stalls, too. A haven for travelers and traders alike, there were booths of hot steaming foods set up next to fletchers and cobblers. Bright colors were everywhere, from the thick flowers bordering each plaza to the green banners hanging out of house windows. And there were people everywhere - shopping, selling, or just walking someplace. There were smiles and laughter and women watching little children play.

But there was also tension.

Some people's faces didn't match the brightness of the day. They walked quickly, avoided the guards, and some even avoided each other. They gave the newcomers **looks. **The kind that said, 'I don't really trust you, but I'll tolerate you if you stay far away.' Fake friendliness and loud voices. There was no shortage of unease in the market.

Evelyn looked sideways at some of the more obvious perpetrators.

_Are they going to ask me 'Greymane or Battleborn?'_

She picked up the trunk and started her hunt for the Bannered Mare.

* * *

**25th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, Loredas**

* * *

Evelyn scrubbed hard, rubbing off the dirt and grime from her trip to Whiterun. She dipped her washcloth in the bucket. The water was lukewarm and slightly murky, but she was determined to just get as clean as realistically possible. She tried to ignore all the bacteria and contaminants that might be lurking nearby. _What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Just ignore the smudges of unidentified substances smeared around here. It'll be fine. _

Wiping off the last of the now-muddy water, she pulled on her pants and donned her daily dress. It was still wet from the wash she gave it earlier, but it was functional. She gathered her satchel and went to pay the innkeeper, Hulda. _That's five septims less than I had yesterday. I need to find a job soon or I'm going to be stuck here._

"Thanks for bringing water up to my room, may I reserve the same for tomorrow?" The woman smiled and nodded. "You may, but it'll cost you extra, everybody is looking for work to do while the city is closed off." _I can't afford that._

"Could I bring the water up myself? All I would need would be the bucket - and I'd prefer to borrow it rather than buy." Evelyn thought it over. "If, of course, you have a bucket that I could borrow for an hour or so."

"...That could be arranged, just let me know when you need it, and bring the bucket back afterward."

_Victory! _"Thank you."

Evelyn walked out of the Inn with confidence, ready to find someone to work for. _There can't be that many people also trying to get gopher jobs, and I can try the Arcadia's Cauldron just in case all else fails. I won't go hungry._

* * *

Hours later, she sat beneath the Gildergreen, hope all but drained away after the disaster that was the day. The sun hung low on the horizon.

The sky was warm yet the air was cold sitting there, in the long shadow of the tree. Evelyn was certain that it was a beautiful sunset, she just didn't have the heart to admire it.

She had planning and worrying to do.

A little red book of riddles lay closed at her side. Abandoned in the growing darkness.

_Adrienne didn't need a gopher, Arcadia didn't need any help in her apothecary, the guards weren't happy letting me anywhere near Dragonsreach..._ She smirked to herself. _Belethor offered to sell me his nonexistent brother... _

_No one is giving out work in this city - at least no one that I can find. _She frowned at the weeds growing beneath her shoes while she thought. The little bits of green had pried their way through cracked stone to reach the surface. _Stubborn plants._ She nudged some grass with her foot. Then she looked up to watch the sky as the color bled away, leaving blackness and unfamiliar stars.

_What am I going to do? I'm not from around here, I don't have any trade to practice. I can't make candles or sew or smith! I'm from Earth! Not Tamriel! The twenty-first century, not medieval times._

A guard walked by with a torch. "Staying safe, I hope?" She nodded.

A breeze cut through the courtyard and she shivered. _I need to get to someone who can send me back home..._ _**Can** I even go back home? There must be some spell, **something** that can send me back!_

_How long until I know..._ She stopped that thought.

_How long..._ The question came back.

She pulled her legs up onto the bench, curling into a ball, and forced herself to confront the reality of her situation.

_How long have I been here? How long have I been gone?... _

_My parents must be so worried._

_How long have I been wandering about, learning "magic" and examining this place? How many delays-_

"What're you lookin' at!" She jumped as a rough man went by her spot under the Gildergreen. He ambled towards a nearby tavern and looked as if he'd been dunked in beer. _Nothing here feels like home. _

Her eyes were wet.

_My parents don't know where I am, my friends don't know._

_My little brother doesn't know._

The sky was completely dark by now - no hints of sunlight. Only Masser and Secunda, the moons, were shedding any usable light. Another guard walked by with a torch.

Evelyn breathed in deeply and did some mental calculations. _Today is the 25th of Sun's Height... _

_My dad's birthday was a few weeks ago._

A lone tear tracked its way down her face as she stared at twin moons.

_I want to go home._

* * *

Two days later, she sold her fishing gear to Clautus in order to pay for her stay at the Inn.

In another three she was still jobless and living off of ever-depleting funds.

Every day, Evelyn would wake up, draw water from the well, have a minor breakdown, and then wash up.

She came out every time cleaned up and ready for each successive day, her eyes shadowed yet determined.

She would walk to the marketplace, and ask around to see if anyone needed something done. Anything simple for pay. A fake smile, a forced bounce to her steps - it all hid her uncertainty. The haunted gaze she reserved only for staring at her coinpurse.

Every day, she would then gather up whatever she had to spare and walk between the stalls, merchants, and stores. She would try to sell her odds and ends at as high a price as was possible. She knew full well that she was terrible at haggling. But every coin matters when it keeps one fed and sheltered.

Afterward, she would read and try meditating to pass the time.

* * *

**1st of Last Seed, 4E 201, Loredas**

* * *

She was really doing it.

After saving them for the past week, and selling nearly everything else, she had to do it.

Evelyn had to start selling her books.

Evelyn spent nearly a day off of her usual haunts in Whiterun in order to go through the little library she had collected. Zaria had paid well, and she suspected that Solaf had been kind enough to give her a sort of "frequent buyer's" discount, so she had managed to buy a total of a dozen or so little books. Two were spellbooks, which she could not even consider selling. For any price, really.

But the others, she could. She had three riddle books in varying colors, and the rest were guidebooks to different locations in Tamriel. Hammerfell, Morrowind, even a small pamphlet describing the history of the East Empire Company in Solstheim. The problem with her plan was that the books held so much information, so much to learn and study. How could she sell them?

But she reminded herself of her end-goal. _It's to get back home. I need to get back home. I can't quit **now**._

_But I also don't need to give up any more than necessary._

Evelyn slipped the three riddle books into her pack. She left the other books in her travel chest and skipped straight to the selling portion of her daily routine.

Only to realize that of the people she sold to, most had either no interest in books or owned multiple copies already. But she hadn't checked Belethor's shop yet. Evelyn walked there next.

"Hello again! Looking to buy? Or do you have some more trinkets to sell?"

Evelyn pulled out her books. "I have these, how much can I get for them?"

The man inspected them thoroughly. "Well, let's see... These aren't first editions... Hmph. Even looks like they were copied down by a novice..." Evelyn shifted her stance. "Hmm... Judging by the poor quality of the make, the inferior binding, and overall rough state of the pages, I'm afraid I can only pay you five septims apiece" _That is only going to last me a day and a half! _"I'm afraid I don't understand. Last I checked these were worth over twice that amount. I bought them for twice the amount."

"Well, I need to make a profit, and I can't make a profit if I just buy things for the highest price possible. This isn't a charity."

He looked at her sternly. "I don't need to buy these. In fact, they'll probably just join my other copies in sitting on that bookshelf over there." He nodded behind him. "I want to help you - I know you need money, so I'm willing to buy. Even if it is a risk."

"Five septims. That is my offer." _Five septims isn't even enough to buy a crude dagger!_

"What about six?"

An exasperated laugh. "You're new to this, I see. A piece of advice: You don't haggle when prices are already as high as they can get. Five septims."

_I need the money. The price he's offering is so low, though... But I need money **badly**._

Evelyn looked back up to Belethor. He was smiling. _He must be playing me for a fool! If this were a favor, then he wouldn't be pushing for such a low price! ...Or would he? Times **have** been pretty rough lately in Whiterun as far as commerce goes..._

_I should sell the books now while I have the offer... But what if he's cheating me?_

Evelyn worried her hands and shifted her stance again.

_I **need** that money._

She looked at the table and placed her books down. She slid them over to Belethor, who handed her a small pouch of coin.

Evelyn had just bought herself another day.

* * *

**11th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Tirdas**

* * *

Evelyn walked away from Belethor's shop with her last bag of septims. _Just enough for the next few days. I... I'm all out of everything, now. _

_All the guidebooks, all the extra supplies, even my travel chest._ Everything Evelyn owned could now fit in her pack. A bedroll, a canteen, and two worn spellbooks. _I can't sell anything else now. _

_If nothing changes by the end of tomorrow, I'm going to have to sleep outside._

She looked at the dirty ground.

_Or I'll have to dip into the fifty septims I set aside for traveling to Winterhold and just walk there solo._

She thought about all the bandit encampments, hostile forts, and necromancer lairs that could be found in Skyrim.

_No. I slept outside when I first got dropped in Tamriel. Sleeping outside here shouldn't kill me._

_It will be uncomfortable, though. _She sat beneath the Gildergreen to watch the sunset.

_At least I have tonight to sleep in a bed._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The path was narrow in relation to the long train of carts rolling through. Nearly half of them were carrying men in stiff metal armor, though many looked as if they could have carried more. A few of the more beat up carts hosted only a handful of grimy soldiers. They were businesslike and solemn.

Amongst the Imperials were heavily guarded wagons which carried soldiers even worse-off than the others. Wrists bound and helmets removed, these were the losers of an important battle, and they knew it. Still, their heads were held as high as possible, even as their imperial jailers forced them out for a meal break. Some helped support wounded comrades, others were carried if they were unable to move properly. At least one man had to be carried completely out of the cart.

A man in well-worn officer's regalia stood silent, musing on the events that dragged him down to the southern border. It was a solemn victory - they had failed the Emperor in capturing the traitors sooner, but in the end the self-styled 'Stormcloaks' had been defeated. He looked over to the richly dressed prisoner. Their eyes locked, the man's sneer visible through the gag, before he was pushed forward by one of the soldiers.

"General Tullius?" he turned away from the scene. "The last prisoner hasn't woken up yet, he took quite the blow to the head-" a woman in captain's armor cut in - "Well, why don't we put him out of his misery? Today, in a week, what does it matter to him?" The general looked at her sharply. "It **will** matter, Captain Terulus, if he has any last requests for his remains or the commendation of his soul by a priest of the Divines. We do not kill without due process." They both wore matching frowns. "With respect, sir, but he's a Nord." She gestured to the prison carts. "He was probably working with the Stormcloaks to help them cross the border. He'll just spit in the priest's face, shout about Talos, and ask to be buried in Sovngarde." He had to agree with her on one point.

"It was certainly more than mere coincidence that drove three 'separate' parties to be at the same small stretch of the border at the exact same time - a horse thief with a perfect mount for escape, a Nord coming from the other side as if heading to a meeting, and a rebel Jarl in need of a quick escape." He inclined his head towards the prisoners. "It may be true that they are all traitors and so deserve a traitor's death. But - they must be made an example of. We cannot just execute them here in the woods so soon after a battle and out of all but the Empire's sight. A leader killed in combat is more fuel for rebellion. One executed for high treason and murder, tied up and gagged - **defeated** \- is much less of a signal of hope for the rebels." He looked to the captain. "We are going to do this properly."

She grimaced. "I just hope that your decision was not based on the advice of our 'lovely' Thalmor ambassador."

The last few words were spit, with the captain's lips curled in disgust. General Tullius stared at the woman for a long moment before letting out his breath. "While I know Elenwen and you do not see eye to eye, her advice is reasonable. And, as you said before, what difference does it make if they are executed today or when we arrive at Helgen?"

He turned back to oversee the cooking of food for the midday meal. "Worry about dealing with the upcoming moot, I have sent word of Ulfric's capture ahead of us to the prison-fort in Helgen. When we arrive, the headsman and priest will be ready. Those found guilty of treason will be executed immediately. The rest can be imprisoned in the dungeons until their terms are completed."

He remembered the soldier. "And you, make sure we don't leave the unconscious one behind. And feed him something, I will not arrive at Helgen with a half-dead body, I won't give the traitors fuel to use against the Empire."

The man jogged off and Captain Terulus addressed Tullius. "And if he doesn't wake before the headsman starts?"

"Then he goes to the dungeons until he does."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

They were silent, the two friends. One sitting, the other standing. One in imperial leathers and the other in Stormcloak blue. To betray the Empire and the law, or to betray the faith of the people of Skyrim - neither man could agree on which was the greater crime.

Their eyes met and they both glared at the other. It was a battle of wills to see which of them believed less in their cause. To see which of them was responsible for the situation they were in.

It ended in a draw.

And the line of carts was rolling along again soon afterward.

* * *

**17th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Morndas**

* * *

A ragged looking man opened an eye. He couldn't think clearly... he could hear horses... Wait. Was he in a cart? The man shifted and tried to sit up. He realized that he was tied up in the back of a wagon. He couldn't remember how he got here. He couldn't even remember the past few days!

He was drawn away from inner panic by a hoarse voice.

"Hey you, you're finally awake."


	9. Alduin's Arrival

**Chapter Nine: Alduin's Arrival**

* * *

**17th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Morndas**

* * *

Evelyn sat atop the outer wall of Whiterun, curled up with a spell tome in hand. She turned a page.

_"One cannot detect targets with clairvoyance unless they are within the sphere of the caster's reach..."_ She heard some footsteps. _Another guard on patrol._ _Hopefully, this one is fine with me staying up here and away from the preacher._

Seeing as Heimskr wasn't due to leave the Gildergreen courtyard until midday, Evelyn was prepared to be here for a while - she had brought her books.

She paused in her reading and listened. There was a distant sound of "Talos the mighty! Talos the-" she stopped listening.

_Yep. He's still standing there preaching about Talos. __I think I'll stay up here a while longer._

_How does he project his voice so far? __And how has he not lost his voice?_

She huffed and returned to her task for the day. _Memorizing the basics behind the spell tomes is harder than it looks, but it must be done. Who knows whether or not the Dragonborn will come in the next day or two, or the next week. I need to be as prepared as possible either way. _

_L__uckily, I've got enough spare coin for two more days - thank goodness I snagged that one-time delivery job from Adrienne's forge a week ago. If the Dragonborn isn't due here for a week or so, though, I'm going to soon find myself sleeping in the dirt._

Evelyn shook her head and focused in on the next line._ "Trace these symbols in the air with one's dominant hand..."_ She stopped reading and flipped back and forth between all the previous pages of hand-position instructions. More symbols for tracing, and she couldn't see any resemblance._ Are they all related to clairvoyance? ...The symbols look so unrelated..._

_But- I feel like there should be some sort of underlying method to all of this 'wave your hand **this** way' madness. Something that I'm missing..._

_Hmph. Probably wishful thinking. I always loved the scientific equations. Those lovely numbers that you could play around with to predict the outcomes of phenomena, the measuring devices for precise results, the interconnectedness of all the equations... This place might not run on physics and chemistry. _

_I don't think my physics and chemistry would allow magic... But then again... What if there **are** fundamental rules beneath the mumbo jumbo? What if-_

"Still here, miss?" She jumped a little. "I've seen you before. Do you come here every day?"

_I don't remember her - but that could just be because all the guards wear the same uniform. She does seem familiar though, now that I think about it._

"Yes, or at least I have for the past two weeks." A sage nod from the armored woman. Evelyn wasn't certain, but she could've sworn she saw the guard flash a grin under her helmet. The guard turned to look Evelyn dead on.

"Heimskr?" There was a slight lilt to the guard's voice.

Evelyn rose an eyebrow before responding.

"Heimskr."

The guard wasn't even trying to hide her grin now. Evelyn smirked right back at her. "Hope you don't mind me hiding up here."

"Not at all. Just let me know if you need anything."

The guard took up position near one of the gaps in the wall's... wall? _I need to figure out what these things are called. I can't go around asking 'hey, I'm going to be up behind the wall on top of the wall over there.' _

_...It sounds even more confusing when I put it like that._

She peeked her head over the top of the stonework, observing the surrounding landscape. _Everything here is so much **larger** than I remember it..._

There was flatland as far as the eye could see. She looked south - the direction she had arrived from weeks ago. Tilled fields gave way to rocky grasslands, and beyond the grasslands was a forest, a deep green swath of evergreens. She could barely make out what was past the trees. Jagged rock filled over half of the sky behind the forest. Rising above the cloudline, it was so far away that the colors were faint and faded, but she could still see that it was an absolutely **massive** mountain.

She couldn't see the top, as it was swathed in a spiral of clouds. The clouds blended into the white of the snowcap and moved inwards - towards where the peak should be.

_The Throat of the World. The storm surrounding the peak doesn't look too dangerous from down here._

A chilly breeze blew past, and Evelyn huddled closer to the wall. She watched the clouds spiral in towards the peak. It was fascinating to observe.

Then a large group of clouds around the peak turned dark grey. The ground rumbled below her. A few clay pots set out to dry tipped over and cracked.

A meteor streaked down from the Throat of the World.

_It's Alduin!_

Adrenaline pumped through her.

_That means that the game plot is underway! The Dragonborn will come soon!_

Her excitement died as she watched a rogue meteor crash into the forest. Trees were thrown back from the impact, and soon there was a thick layer of smoke rising from that area. A guard shouted an alarm from the watchtower.

The World-Eater roared and another round of meteors streaked down from the peak. _That sound. He wants to kill us all._

Another fire was burning through the trees south of Whiterun, and the smoke was engulfing some of the farmsteads. So much destruction and fire. _There wasn't anyone in the woods thanks to the Jarl's quarantine, thankfully. But, if the farms burn, then where will people get their food? Will Alduin target more farms just to be cruel about it?_ She shook her head. _No. __Alduin doesn't care about people enough to specifically target something. We're beneath him, in his eyes. I hope._

The smoke still rose in the distance. Screeches of fury were easily audible, even though the World-Easter had to have been many dozens of miles away.

_I know Alduin's arrival is necessary, and that I've been waiting for this for weeks, but I just can't bring myself to be excited now that he** is** here._

"What was that?" The guard stood tall but her voice wavered. She raised her shield as if a meteor might fall towards Whiterun.

"Get inside, citizen, I must report this to the Jarl. He needs to know what is going on."

As an afterthought, the woman added softly: "It could be another Oblivion Crisis."

Evelyn scrambled down from the wall. Away from the burning countryside.

She was one step closer to going home but couldn't celebrate. Not with this destruction.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

A lone figure stood overlooking a great lake.

They walked to edge slowly, drifting around the larger rocks.

The figure kneeled down and laid their hands over the thin ice. They waited.

Time passed - the sun bore down on the ground, casting harsh shadows upon the snow. There was no movement around the lake until late evening. No creatures disturbed this location of desolation and purity.

A distant cry. Fury and outrage incarnate. The shadows danced.

The figure tilted their head, listening. The ice beneath their hands shifted and cracked, but did not break.

The cry came again. Louder, but still an eternity away from the lake. The figure smiled.

Rising to their feet, the figure walked away from the lake just as silently as they had arrived.

_The time has come._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"What do you mean, 'there wasn't any change in the excavation?!' I just distinctly felt the ground quake!" _This is impossible, did something activate in Nchuand-Zel when I wasn't paying attention?! Inconceivable!_ "I will not be happy if I find out that one of you has touched a button or lever that I didn't check over first!" _These idiots don't know how difficult it is to keep everything going smoothly in the excavation! They can't just frolick around when there are exacting measurements and notes that still need to be recorded!_

_...Of course, I didn't hire them for their brains._

_But what if they have irreparably damaged something of great importance?!_

"Aicantar!" "Yes, uncle?" "Make sure that the museum is exactly as I left it this morning, I need to speak with the Jarl."

"Yes, Uncle."

He called out after his assistant "Make sure that no nosy types are trying to steal my research!"

With this setback, he needed to be certain that no one else was close to reaching his level of detail in his notes and theories. The only way to be certain of that was to make sure that no one could steal his life's work out from under him. Opposing researchers didn't have the expertise or resources that he, Calcelmo, had access to. So long as they kept to their own research, they would be no threat to his work.

After his nephew was out of sight, he locked up his things and cast several wards over his workstation. _One can never be too careful. _

He stood up and strode off to the main hall.

His legs were a bit stiff, but he got into the swing of walking by the time he reached Faleen.

Of course, his words failed him when he tried to say hello. In the end, he settled for simply getting his point across.

"Jarl. N-now. Me- I- I must speak with... the Jarl" She was quiet for a little while.

_She's so beautiful when she squints her eyes like that all suspicious-like... With a tilt of her lips, she could almost be smiling! At me! _He shook his head clear of daydreams to see her leading him into the Jarl's throne room.

_Ah! can't get left behind! _He trotted after her.

And almost ran into someone leaving the throne room. A Thalmor Justiciar. They spared him a curious glance before moving on.

Upon making eye contact with Jarl Igmund, and Faleen's reappointment to entryway-guard, Calcelmo immediately delved into how he was not responsible for the earthquake and that his museum and research were as profitable as ever. "I'm telling you, some thief probably thought that causing a ruckus would draw me away from guarding my research!"

The Jarl just nodded continuously without pause. _Yes! He agrees!_

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

_So that was the famed Calcelmo._

_Interesting. _

_I do not think that I have seen him outside of his lab before. Too absorbed in his work to be concerned about the goals of the Aldmeri Dominion - he is lucky that he has not said anything incriminating yet._

Ondolemar strode out of the main hall area to meet up with the new members of his elite group.

They had arrived from Alinor only in the past week or so, and as such would require supplemental training in order to adapt to Skyrim. _It is very different here than in Alinor. People do not respect our station in this freezing rock of a region. _

_That does not mean that we should not act as expected of a Justiciar Officer of the Aldmeri Dominion._

He checked his posture to be certain that it was perfect - of course, it was. He also made certain to school his expression into careful blankness. _These recruits must prove that they are ready for this war that First Emissary Elenwen is concocting. Our task will be to root out the worship of Talos throughout Skyrim._

_We must not let the natives here believe that they can defy the Aldmeri Dominion._

Ondolemar pulled a letter out of his sleeve, scanning it one final time.

_The new recruits: the Caemaerith siblings - all three are at the tops of their respective classes. Good. We will need their skills if we mean to keep Markarth under our jurisdiction. _He read further.

_Estormo Larethorin and Enddilwe Adahl. An extra mage and a spy. That makes five recruits to fill in for the five lost a month ago. _Ondolemar scowled.

They had left on a patrol and never reported back in. His field team, all of them, had disappeared.

And just a short time before Torygg was killed. When Jarl Ulfric was supposedly on his way to Solitude.

His eyes narrowed. _If the Dominion's plan did not rely on the Stormcloak surviving, I might have hunted him down myself._

_The search would have been much shorter, at least._

Reaching the door to the Thalmor quarters, he smoothed the anger off his face before entering.


	10. Choices and Departures

**Chapter Ten: Choices and Departures**

* * *

"My Jarl, we cannot keep the merchants here much longer. I've received news that Jarl Ulfric was captured recently. There is no reason for them to be delayed further." A woman cut in. "But that storm! And the dragon! I am not certain that the roads are any safer now. I am not going to send the guards out on patrol with a fire-breathing beast flying about the countryside." The first speaker gestured about. "Irileth - they are on the verge of revolt! We really should-" "But-"

Both were interrupted by a man sitting on a throne. "Stop it. Both of you. The Empire has no more need for travel restrictions, and I have no desire for a revolt. Proventus, you may let the traders know that they are free to leave. But- I will not be sending any of my guards out until I know that the beast isn't coming back." The man bowed. "Yes, my Jarl. I will inform the traders immediately." "And I shall inform the guards."

* * *

**18th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Tirdas**

* * *

Evelyn awoke to the sound of clattering pans in the morning.

"Be careful with those, Clautus!" Another clang echoed through the inn. "I **am** being careful. Your cooking supplies are alright - just... a bit dented in a few places."

"Clautus!"

Wiping the sleepiness from her eyes, she rolled out of bed. There was no way that she would be able to get back to sleep with those two arguing. Again.

_Some things never change. Even after the coming of the World Eater - though no one knows about that yet._

With that sobering thought, she straightened her tunic a bit, smoothing out a few wrinkles, and pulled on her shoes. She picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder. She glanced out the window - the sun was just above the horizon.

_What's their problem? The sun is barely up - i__t's nowhere near breakfast time!_

She opened the door and entered the common area of the Bannered Mare to see Clautus leaving with a large chest. Every step he took was punctuated by metallic clanging. _Are they leaving? ...The Jarl hasn't given the all clear for everyone to leave yet. _

_Is Habel trying to sneak away? Did they bribe the guards to let them pass? _

Evelyn frowned. _Wait. Did they run out of money to pay for their stay at the inn?_

A man walked out of a nearby room, his leather backpack filled to bursting. He nodded to Hulda and Aprolla as he, too, left the building.

_What is going on? _

"Oh! There you are! ...Evelyn, right?" Aprolla called her over. "Why so glum? Whiterun is no longer on lockdown!"

_Wait. Really? _Evelyn looked at Aprolla.

_I thought the guards weren't going to lift the travel ban until the Dragonborn arrived with news..._

"When did that happen?" The woman tucked a stray hair into her bun. "Just this morning, actually. I'm surprised you didn't hear the announcement." Aprolla picked up a bag of vegetables and turned to leave. "We'll be leaving soon for Morthal, if you want to tag along again, I'm sure Habel can cut you a discount."

Evelyn shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't - I'm headed in a different direction. I'll be going up to Winterhold."

"To the College, right? I've heard that the only other things up there are snowstorms and trolls." Aprolla shivered before turning around to leave. "Nasty beasts... I wish you luck, but I must be going! I don't want to keep Habel waiting!"

The door creaked on its hinges and she was gone.

Evelyn blinked a few times.

_That was rather... Abrupt._

She grabbed her daily portion of porridge and sat in a corner, eyes creased in thought. _I had expected to see the Dragonborn before I left for the College... maybe even ask whoever it is to help me find my way home, and travel with them._

Blowing the steam away from her bowl, she took a bite. It was just as plain and tasteless as always. She looked at the empty spoon.

_But who am I kidding? I'm completely inept when it comes to defending myself right now - the most damage I can do is temporarily blind someone with candlelight. _

She focused, trying to pull up the feeling of her ball of light.

She could feel it, sitting somewhere near her heart, but it faded when she tried to call it to her fingers.

_I can't even conjure the **one** spell I can actually cast most of the time!_

_To the Dragonborn, I'd probably be a nuisance - one of those NPCs that you need for a quest yet secretly find intolerable. _

_Additionally - what's the Dragonborn even going to do to help me? They aren't masters of planar magic or theory like someone at the college might be. __The Dragonborn may be perfect for clearing bandit hideouts and dungeons, but I don't think their realm of expertise will be places outside of Tamriel and Oblivion. _

_The Dragonborn won't be able to help me._

Images of an Elder Scroll contained in glass. A dark castle smothered by storm clouds. A set of eight multicolored masks - all surrounding a dragon skull pedestal.

_But. Could I help the Dragonborn?_

_\- Outside of being the Skyrim equivalent of cannon fodder, of course._

She closed her eyes and slumped into the hard chair.

_I could show the Dragonborn the places to go and the things to collect, as well as helpful information for dealing with certain dungeons. Helpful shortcuts such as - "Esbern is in the Ratway" and "goodness gracious the Thalmor have no idea what is going on with the dragons," or even "Septimus is crazy - grab the cube and go to Alftand."_

A floating bow and glowing doorways.

_I could cut the entire Dawnguard quest short by telling them to just "head to that Darkfall Cave place and wait for Gelebor to show up."_

_I can get the Dragonborn through the quests lightning fast in comparison to all the bumbling around done trying to figure out what's going on in the game version of Skyrim. _

_But._

_That is only on the quest side. The Dragonborn would still need to get experience and 'level up' in order to pose a threat to Alduin. _

_Whoever they are, they would not thank me for throwing them up against Vyrthur, Alduin, or Miraak at the equivalent of level two or something. _

Evelyn reviewed her many playthroughs - including one where she tried going full two-handed. She had just finished up a high-level archer run and was ready to melee her way through all the dragons she could find.

Two minutes out of Riverwood and her new nord warhammer-wielder was ragdolled across a riverbank. Mudcrabs were crawling around where she fell.

_No. It is a **bad** idea to try to speed up the Dragonborn's process - they need to go through quests in proper sequence in order to be ready for the boss fights._

_I can't tell them the shortcuts or answers, either - who has ever heard of someone saying "Yeah, you could search for months on end and risk your life in this crazy huge dungeon, or you could simply walk to X location and be done with it... but you really need to do the dungeon thing because you should get stronger."_

_And, they would probably loathe fighting lesser enemies solely for the experience if they knew that every minute, Alduin could be eating souls in Sovngarde. _

_So... My two options are to wait for the Dragonborn, or go ahead and travel to Winterhold before my money runs out. _

_Traveling with the Dragonborn would mean constantly resisting telling them all the shortcuts, dealing with tons of monsters that want people for breakfast, and running about helping random people - but not getting much closer to returning home. And that's only if the Dragonborn decides that they would tolerate a civilian with no discernable use in his adventuring party - which isn't likely at all. _

_Heading to Winterhold means going straight to the place that would have the most knowledge of other worlds and planes of existence. There is only the disaster triggered by Saarthal to worry about, and if I do need to give advice to the Dragonborn, they will eventually pass through on their way to the Elder Scroll. Or while looking information on the Moth Priest. Or just because there is a quest there that they need to complete._

_The odds of never seeing them are pretty low considering their future occupation._

She opened her eyes and picked up her bowl, walking to drop it off at the counter with Hulda.

_But I really feel as if I should travel with the Dragonborn... _

Twenty minutes passed as Evelyn drifted out of the Bannered Mare and into the streets of Whiterun. She circled around the Plains District in a haze.

_...what if I need to help the Dragonborn complete their quest in order to go home?..._

_...what if they need my help?_

She sat down under the Gildergreen - it looked less grand than she remembered it. Dulled and wilting, the leaves were turning into shriveled dust.

_...What if I... _Evelyn focused her eyes on the sky. She stared straight up through wispy clouds and thought about her reasons for waiting or leaving.

_I'd be a hindrance until I learned more magic - something I can do at the College. I can't really give any hints, so that takes away my usefulness to the Dragonborn. I should go to the College._

_But I could still help him..._

She shook her head.

_No. _

_I'm not going to be a creepy Dragonborn stalker. I'm going to figure out why I'm here, how I got here, and - most importantly - how to get back._

_That means I'm not going to waste the remainder of my money waiting for the Dragonborn._

_I'm going to hire a carriage to Winterhold today._

She stood abruptly and strode off to the main gate.

_...What is the Dragonborn like?_

After a pause, she sped up her pace.

_Make that** immediately** \- the best way to remove temptation is to take it out of the equation. I can't sit around waiting for the Dragonborn if I'm already en route to Winterhold._

_The main reason to stay is fangirling, I need to be logical about this problem and go to the College for help._

* * *

"Oi miss! Are you lookin' for safe passage somewhere? Old Gjolrik can get you there fast!"

"What would your services imply?"

The scruffy old man squinted down at her. His head was covered by a fur cap at least two sizes too large. He gestured wildly into the air.

"The finest meals for the journey, prepared by myself, and the fastest carriage horse you'll ever see."

Evelyn looked at the rickety carriage and the thin horse hooked up to it.

_His is the last carriage here that doesn't look like it'll cost me a fortune._

"Yes, please. How much would it cost to travel up north?"

"Hm... I'd say... Forty septims." _Yes! Budget travel for the win! OK, I can't act too excited now._

"Very well, I'm ready to leave now." She set down her pack and looked through to find her coinpurse. The man spoke up while she was counting out coins. He sounded uncertain. "Wait. Where exactly in the North are you headin'?"

"She counted out the last of the coins. "Winterhold."

The only noise now was the snorting of horses and the low rumble of the stable-hands working through their chores.

"You're askin' for a lot - the path up there'll be long and treacherous. It's nearly too late to travel there this year, you'd be better off waitin' for the winter to pass." He didn't take the coins she had in her hand extended.

She frowned at him. "You said 'nearly too late for travel,' yes?" She dug through her pack, pulling out her entire coinpurse. "I can give you fifty septims to get me there before the freeze If you are willing." She counted out all the coins in the pouch before dropping them all back inside. His focus was entirely on the clinking bag. She held out the coinpurse to him. _Please oh **please** let him agree - he's the only carriage driver still here! And this is all the money I have!_

The wrinkles on his face deepened before he replied wearily, like a child with a chore. "That... would be acceptable. Where's your luggage, miss...?"

"Evelyn. And this is all that I'm taking with me." She lifted her pack from behind her. It was light enough to sway in the breeze, even with the two spellbooks inside. She kept her dagger wrapped in a scrap of cloth and her dead phone and earbuds in a pouch, and she had just given over her coinpurse along with all her money, so it was understandable that the man looked concerned.

"Are you... sure? The weather can get right nasty." "That is why I'm hoping to beat the winter weather."

He frowned again.

"I'm not talkin' about 'winter weather,' miss. It's **always** freezin' up there, and you don't look to have much in the way of gear."

"You said that you will provide food, and I saw that you have some blankets in the back. Would you mind terribly if I mooch those blankets off you until I arrive in Winterhold?" He considered. "I could also trade you for some of them - I can collect alchemy ingredients that you'd be able to trade in cities."

Gjolrik hesitated before dismissing her with a hand. "Whatever, miss. You can use my blankets if you get too cold. Just climb in back and we'll be off."

With a sense of deja-vu, she pulled herself into the carriage. Gjolrik tapped the old horse with a stick and they turned around onto the road. "We should be there in three weeks or so." _Time to get comfy. This'll take a while._


	11. Perils of Travel

**Chapter Eleven: Perils of Travel**

* * *

**19th of Last Seed, 4E 201, Middas**

* * *

Gjolrik was humming. The birds were singing. And all Evelyn could do was sit in the cart and **try** to read.

Apparently, she could get seasick on dry land.

The carriage hit a larger bump and her stomach rolled, rearranging itself in the process. She dutifully covered her mouth - just in case - and peeked over the edge. _I just need to let my body know that it's moving right now, then it should stop trying to get me to throw up. _She watched the ground pass beneath the wheels for ages, her book abandoned near the blankets for the sake of survival.

The carriage rocked from side to side as the uneven axles spun along.

Another lurch brought her stomach all the way to her throat. She could taste her breakfast. _Blandest porridge I've ever had._

_It tasted like someone took one look at their undercooked oatmeal and said 'you know what this thing needs? It needs some flour flavoring.'_

She scrunched her face up and swallowed back the bile.

And had to swallow again as the cart hit a particularly large stone. It rearranged the wheels so that the whole thing was leaning in the other direction.

_Why does this box on wheels have to be so rickety!? I should have known when I saw it outside the Whiterun stables! Of course it was going to be cheaper than- _"Trying to become an orc, miss?"

Gjolrik was talking to her again. Trying to start up some small talk? How was she acting like an orc? _Is it a figure of speech or a saying I don't know? _Her stomach rolled along with the wheels.

"Y'know that if you really wanted to, you could've just rubbed your face in some grass."

_Oh. Just a really bad joke._

Evelyn heaved herself up onto the blanket pile and stared at the sky. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in deeply.

_Am I supposed to laugh or be offended? It's honestly too much effort to respond right now. _

With a chuckle, Gjolrik turned back to steering the carriage. Evelyn returned to her thoughts.

_I'm riding in what is essentially a glorified wagon._ Bumping along the road, hitting every pothole there ever was... _It's a miracle that the old thing is still in one piece_. She exhaled.

_And it'll be a miracle if I can survive this road trip. _

She breathed in again... And then out again. _Just a few more weeks. Then I'll be in Winterhold at the College._

_And Gjolrik and his cart of doom will be far away, hopefully._

She breathed in through the nose... and out through the mouth. _Don't throw up, don't throw up._

Evelyn continued to meditate, breathing as slowly as possible.

_I don't remember Habel's carts being this uncomfortable. _

_But then again, Habel **was** traveling slower, and I did **walk** most of the way to Whiterun. Gjolrik is letting me ride the entire way, so at least my feet won't get blisters. Motion sickness goes away when you stop moving. Blisters stay a while longer._

_It's best to ride on the cart - no blisters, no worries about where to step, no getting lost, no getting my shoes muddy..._

_...Why does it feel like I'm trying to convince myself?..._

Her perch lurched sideways as one of the wheels fell into a divot in the road.

She rolled to her side and curled into a ball, hand over her mouth and feeling much greener than she had before.

_On second thought, I might ask Gjolrik to let me walk some - Even if it slows us down. I don't think my stomach can handle much more._

* * *

Nursing sore feet, Evelyn laid in the back of the cart. With her eyes closed, she felt the sun fall lower and lower on the horizon. Eventually, the shadow from the side of the cart grew to cover her completely. With the warmth of the sun gone, she pulled out a blanket and dragged herself into awakeness. They should be arriving at a camping location soon. The sky was red on the western horizon.

She looked up front to see the old man rearranging his cap. She went back to watching the ground pass by.

_Some rocks... Some grass... More rocks... A stump... Some flowers..._ and so on.

_Such fun._

* * *

They arrived at the resting place for the day just as the larger moon - _Masser, right? _\- began to rise. It was near a stream too small to justify marking on maps, and sheltered by a few large pine trees. Gjolrik began unloading his daily supplies. He shooed her away when she asked if he needed help, so Evelyn went to the stream to clean up for the day.

She pulled off her shoes and shook them, dumping numerous pebbles onto the ground. Dipping her feet in the stream, she started scrubbing. The dirt came off slowly, but eventually, she was satisfied with her work. She wiped her face and neck with the wet rag before rinsing and wringing it out. _I still feel rather gross in these clothes, but there is no way that I'm going to be able to take a bath **and** wash my apparel while we're traveling. I just need to wait it out until we arrive at Winterhold._

She meandered back to camp. _On the plus side, I don't think that I can get worse than Gjolrik. He smelled like hay even before we started traveling. _Walking over to her corner of the carriage, she hung the rag out to dry.

* * *

"Oi, don't watch me while I'm cookin'! My recipes are a secret, y'know."

He grumbled on as Evelyn purposefully turned to face away from the cooking fire. "Can't be givin' away all of my best secrets, can I?"

Skeptical, Evelyn pulled out her phone as quietly as possible. _Let's see if this works..._

She held it out in front of her and angled the screen so that it reflected what Gjolrik was doing behind her.

She watched with a bored expression as the 'master chef' finished dropping lumps of dried bread rations into the pot.

_Why am I not surprised?_

She raised an eyebrow when he started stabbing into the pot. It could only be the stale bread chunks - Evelyn remembered them being difficult to bite into. _He must not have broken them into small enough pieces at the start._ A little bit of the liquid splashed onto his hand and he winced, sucking on the damaged appendage before resuming his attack on the rations. _Ouch. Hopefully, that means that it was boiling - so I can rest easy about the water being safe for consumption._

She placed her phone in her satchel and walked back to the cart. Setting her things down, she sorted out the flowers she had collected over the course of her walk. Some lavender, mountain flowers, and a few handfuls of tundra cotton.

She spent the rest of her time waiting for dinner preparing her ingredients for storage.

* * *

She looked at the spoon. It held a pale milky liquid with a blob of soggy bread. Dinner did not look appetizing. _Not that I was expecting it to be good after tasting breakfast earlier today._

"How do you like it?" The old man stuck a large spoonful in his mouth and chewed before swallowing. He smiled hopefully as Evelyn dragged the spoon up to her face.

She managed to only glance at the food once, and went right for it before she could think about it more.

With one bite, the stew was on its way to her stomach._ That wasn't too bad. I just need to avoid touching it with my tongue for too long. The aftertaste can't get me if I don't taste it in the first place!_

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Time passed slowly on the road. Windswept plains bled into a thin evergreen forest, which thickened into freezing taiga. Temperatures dropped the further north they reached, and the evergreen trees thinned out, leaving bare ground and rocks as the dominant landscape feature. It was a steady uphill as mountains rose to the left.

* * *

**3rd of Hearthfire, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

The weather was only getting worse as time went on.

The winds were ever-present, but just a few days ago they had finally passed into the land of eternal ice. Now, snowflakes and ice fell with the wind, cutting deeply whenever she had to leave the cart. The cart trundled along even more jarringly than before - the ground was frozen solid and covered with snow or ice of some sort. In the far north, every breath was steam in the frigid air.

_I'm glad that Gjolrik is letting me hole up in my blanket burrito back here._

She ducked her head back into her nest of sorts and took a deep breath of warmer air. It didn't burn her throat like the outside air.

The blankets and furs were coated with a thick layer of snow that Evelyn packed solid every morning before climbing back in. _It's my own personal igloo. The animal furs outside of the blankets to keep the inside dry, and the blankets to keep me warm. _

Evelyn watched as the carriage passed another bush of unripe snowberries. Besides the mountains to her left and the occasional cairn, the number of snowberry bushes were her only gauge of how far she had ridden. She added to her count for every ten bushes the cart passed. _That one brings my trip total up to 34. 340 bushes. Time to start counting again... _

Just as she spotted another bush near the trail, a chill wind blew through the cart. She curled into a ball. With only her eyes peeking out, she continued counting with a slight shiver.

Some time passed before Gjolrik called out from ahead, though he was muffled by all of the blankets and furs.

"Lookie here! We're at the fork - meanin' we'll be arriving at Winterhold within the week!"

_Finally! An end date in sight!_ Evelyn grinned to herself and shuffled over to the front of the carriage. Sure enough, there was a split in the road ahead. A well-cobbled road was on the left, while a dirt path led to the right. Gjolrik turned the carriage left and started rambling about the locale. Evelyn wasn't paying attention for the most part, but she did pick up a few interesting tidbits of information. _Hm. So the road on the right leads to some old nordic barrow. __Twenty bucks says that thing is infested with draugr._

She returned to counting snowberries as Gjolrik rambled on. The fork in the road behind them dwindling into the distance.

The wind picked up again. Gjolrik grabbed his cap and pulled it further down over his head.

White flakes filling the air, Hilda the horse plodded on. Evelyn was hit on her nose with a small ice crystal and hunkered down further, resigning herself to another day of lovely Skyrim weather.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Ondolemar stood in front of his new Justiciars.

"The first thing you must know is that the people in Skyrim have utterly no grasp of proper manners, and will happily let you stand nearby until sundown. Some officials might, in fact, become angered if you do so. You must become used to taking your own leave, and leaving without a dismissal."

He stared at his new recruits, imparting upon them the seriousness of his next statement. Agents Quarrennen, Adahl, and Larethorin were focused - good - while Agents Minuen and Trendil appeared distracted._ Rimril warned me of their tendency to let their minds wander. __I will have to keep an eye on those two. _He focused on each one in turn, eyes narrowing.

"Of course, this does **not** give you permission to grow lax in your duties - you will follow all necessary protocol when dealing with fellow members of our organization. You are Thalmor, not members of an untrained rabble. Act accordingly." He then proceeded to update them on his expectations for the day's training, and answered a thinly veiled query from Agent Minuen on when they would be patrolling - which would be as soon as **he** felt they were ready. He carried on for another few minutes before he finished up his speech, turning around and walking into his office. Without dismissing them.

He stood in silence. Waiting. No noise came from the other room.

He allowed himself to smile briefly before he turned around, face as stern as before. Pulling out orders he finished writing just that morning, he reentered the room and stood stiffly. "Agent Quarrennen, take these orders to Ryaril Elsinihre." He handed the note to the young mer. "You are dismissed, soldiers. Resume your training."

They all nodded their heads before leaving. Agent Minuen was the fastest to go, seconded by Agent Larethorin. _Impatience and eagerness, respectively. _

Ondolemar stood until the room was emptied, then strode off to find Agent Athan. Hopefully, he would have an update on Agent Sanyon's status. The justiciar had not checked in for the past few months, which was worrisome, even for him.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

_He was back in that cursed town. The one with the staring eyes and grim soldiers. The one where good men and women died. The one where he almost joined them in Sovngarde. _

_He remembered his fear - he felt it even now - as he stared down that monster._

_The eyes of death had been red - glowing embers stoked to furious fire._

_It had been untouchable. Tail slamming down to crush flimsy bodies while its head turned to roast survivors into charred bones. _

_He could smell it - the sickly sweet scent of burning flesh. _

_Those terrible eyes. They saw him. They hated him. Those eyes hated **everyone**. _

_That thing was the_ _harbinger of destruction, decay, and ruin._

_There was no escape. He was going to die. He had to run._

_A crash sounded and suddenly the sky was falling, leaving streaks of fire behind each shattered piece._

_The sky was broken and the town was burning and **he had to get up**. _

_Smoke and fire and loud crashes._

_Running. He made it to a building - it was on fire. They were all on fire. More running and he met some people. He couldn't remember their names._

_Why couldn't he remember their names?_

_A tower and a long jump. More death and destruction. More fire. Death seemed to like fire. He looked around. The keep wasn't on fire. People were running but most weren't making it._

_He needed to get to the keep. Maybe he could make it?_

_More running. He was **so** close...!_

* * *

He woke with a start, sweat beading on his face and hands strangling the sleeping furs. A man was standing over his sleeping pallet, dented shield in one hand and dried jerky in the other. The man frowned down at him.

"Well, whelp. You're training with me today. Judging from yesterday, your strength is acceptable - for a novice. My shield siblings and I will fix that."


	12. Novice Mistakes

**Chapter Twelve: Novice Mistakes**

* * *

Estormo ducked under the sword, gathering energy for a ward. The nord swiped at him again and he was forced to break concentration. He backpedaled away from the greatsword.

The man continued his advance, jabbing his blade into gaps in Estormo's defense. Each swing pushed Estormo to retreat further and further from the center of the ring. He was losing control of the fight.

Advice from Ondolemar filtered through his thoughts.

_"Always be certain that you are aware of your capabilities. You should not overestimate your chance of success, but neither should you underestimate yourself. Be aware at all times." _His frown deepened.

He had **certainly** overestimated his capabilities in this duel. _How is it that this man - who is younger than I, and has likely never taken part in **any** formal training in combat stratagem - is proving so difficult to defeat!_

He rolled out of the way of a great, lunging strike, and scrambled to his feet.

_A plan. Follow the plan. There is protocol for fighting skilled warriors._

He dodged again, making sure to face his opponent at all times.

_Yes. The standard tactics for melee fighters. Make sure to drain their energy and strength__. They are no threat if they are unable to lift their weapon. Preferably do so from a distance._

He couldn't back away much farther, so with a small portion of his recharging magicka, he brought up a frost spell -_ excellent for fatiguing one's enemies._

_Shoot the feet.__ Slow your enemy down. _The warmth around him was sucked away as ice blasted the nord in front of him. Frozen crystals grew over the man's boots and greaves, but he only smirked and plowed forwards, not faltering in his steps even once. Estormo shivered and released his spell. He had drained even more magicka. _Be aware of your own capabilities. I should have known that my frost spells need work. I haven't practiced them nearly to the level as my shock spells. _

He was winded and his magicka was running low. _I need more time! _The nord was moving toward him even as he ducked around another swing. Estormo retreated away from the weapon. The man charged in, his knuckles white around the hilt of the greatsword. _He is aware that this is a spar, correct? _He conjured up a shock spell with the remainder of his drained magicka.

The man paused for only a second before he resumed the offensive by testing Estormo's reach. He warily observed the active spell.

Sparks danced in his outstretched hand, but Estormo could already feel his mind drifting. He needed to finish this fight before he ran out of magicka completely. _I haven't regained enough energy to hit him from a distance. _The lightning crackled as the man grinned and hefted up his sword. _And it appears that he has just realized that as well._

The nord tested the range again with a few sword swings. Every time, Estormo backed away, ready to strike for the time when the man actually attacked. _At least I do not need to worry about the lethality of my spells - my magicka is too low._

_But still, protocol will be followed. Avoid striking the head._

The man finally committed to an attack, raising his sword. It left the man's stomach unguarded. -_There!-_ He curled his fingers inward, and the sparks intensified.

They were interrupted before either could get a hit in.

A flash of light blinded them as a glowing orb landed in the middle of the ring. Both combatants froze. Estormo straightened his posture into that of attention. A figure in Justiciar robes left the shadows near the far wall. The nord lowered his sword, grimacing sneer fading away into solemnity. The newcomer looked down upon them both from his position out of the ring.

"Thank you, Gudrik, that will be all for now."

The man swaggered out, just barely managing to avoid slamming the door as he exited the room. He had forced the higher-ups to interfere in order to save an overconfident recruit's skin - it was a good day in the man's opinion. Estormo stood silently in the ring as Ondolemar approached. Long and steady steps over the training room floor. The other mer took up the position opposite him, just outside of the sand, frowning. _How long has he been observing?_

"What can you tell me about your spar?" His voice was cool - he was not pleased.

Estormo took as deep a breath as he dared, words from his first memories of training surfacing unbidden. _"you are soldiers, act the part." _He looked up to stare Ondolemar in the eye and spoke steadily, ignoring his own discomfort. "I underestimated the man's speed, wasting my magicka trying to catch him with paralysis. Afterward, I spent too much time dodging and storing up magicka for a ward to be any sort of threat." A breath. "And, I need to practice more of the frost spells - I overestimated my skill in casting them." He went silent - there was not much else to say. _"You are Thalmor, and the Thalmor allow room for neither ineptitude or foolishness."_ More memories. Estormo suppressed a grimace.

He couldn't see Ondolemar's expression, so focused was he on keeping the extent of his embarrassment and discomposure hidden.

He forced himself not to fidget in the silence.

With the clearing of a throat, Estormo realized that he had lost concentration again. He looked up.

The Head of the Justiciars had moved closer, stepping into the training area. His face was stern, but showed less cold anger now than before. He waited for Estormo to return to attention before commenting.

"While I am certain that those reasons contributed to your problems, I believe that there is a larger mistake here."

His commanding officer lifted up a fistful of frosted sand. He let it dribble through his gauntlets until only the ice crystals remained. He glanced to Estormo as if waiting for something before sighing. "You were fighting a nord. They are notorious for their tolerance of the cold of their homeland. Frost spells have little to no effect on them." Ondolemar conjured a flame in his hand, melting the ice. "A fire spell would be preferable in a fight with one of them. However, you did well transferring to a shock spell. They are very effective at forcing opponents to freeze up. Seizures are not as easily ignored as pain." He frowned at the water in his gauntlet before letting it drop to the sand. "Also, you were too focused on avoiding the man's swings to notice he was favoring his left leg. Always be aware of your opponent."

Estormo inclined his head to Ondolemar's advice. Inwardly relaxing with a path for improvement clear.

Ondolemar stared curiously at Estormo before his eyes sharpened, coming to a decision. The mer straightened up to his full height.

"Agent Larethorin, you will resume your training tomorrow, after you have recovered the rest of your magicka." Estormo nodded. "With your time, I suggest you do some reading on the people and creatures of this land. The knowledge has the chance to be very useful in your future as a justiciar."

With that, the Head Justiciar strode out of the room, leaving Estormo to compose himself in silence.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Are you sure about this? It's a serious risk!" "I'm certain. We desperately need to make up for our lost time! I have orders to fulfill - these spices were due **last** week!" The woman gestured to the piles of wooden boxes arranged as a makeshift table. There was a map spread out on top of them. It had dark stains in a few places and well-worn edges, and every road was marked with notes - comments on terrain, travel speed, and known bandit camps, among other things. All the paths except one.

The one the woman was tracing with her finger. Following its path, memorizing it.

She stood to her full height and rolled up the map, stowing it in her storage chest. "It would not have any surveyors if it is truly as dangerous as they say. I met a man once who claimed to have never encountered any sort of trouble through the pass."

"Was he being honest?"

"As far as I could tell, he was telling the truth. His left thumb would twitch whenever he lied, and I saw none of that when he described his travels on the road. Others have probably been basing their information off of old wives' tales."

The man gave in. "Very well, I'll inform the mercenaries."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Entering the main hall of Understone Keep, Ondolemar walked swiftly toward his office. There were forms that needed signing, orders to be sent out, and decisions to be made.

He reviewed his encounters with the recruits earlier. Agent Quarrennen was the most skilled out of the group and was ready for an assignment. The rest were not.

He would not send a lone justiciar out for any task - no matter how near or far.

Ancano was requesting a delivery to **Winterhold**. Even farther away than Windhelm, and inaccessable by the sea following the supposed Great Collapse. And, more importantly, strongly in the control of Stormcloak sympathizers. With the escape of Ulfric, Jarl Korir would undoubtedly align himself with the Jarl of Windhelm. If he had not already done so, that is.

While sending a single agent was out of the question, so too was sending recruits who were too inexperienced. A task like this would require a well-trained team. One that he did not have ready just yet. _I will send to Ancano that there will be a waiting period of unknown time involved before I can send a group to deliver his old notes and files._

Ondolemar unlocked his quarters and entered, pacing while he reanalyzed the day's observations.

Minuen was not nearly serious enough to be ready - he had caught her attempting to pour spiced wine into her brother Quarrennen's cup of cider. She had been admirably calm and collected upon being found in the middle of pouring, but it was still obvious that only her skill with a bow had allowed her to make it this far among the ranks. Anyone else would have been discharged from duty by now. Of course, she performed her duties perfectly, but one had to give her exacting directions in order to avoid unexpected side effects. _And find her enough tasks to do so that she does not have the time to grow bored._

Trendil, on the other hand, was too young for Ondolemar to allow out. He was practically a child with his excessive questions about the city and ever-present caution. _He will be a good choice to keep watch over the streets of Markarth in the future, however. _

Adahl was set to become a court spy, so that took her out of consideration.

That left only Estormo. The mage was well-versed in most schools of magic, but was nearly as young as Trendil, from what the letters from the training academy in Alinor told him. He was noted to be rather skilled for his age with destruction and defensive spells, but Ondolemar found that he would be more likely to try to guard or disable than kill. The main problem was that he still needed more training and experience before he would be ready for travel. _And common sense - attacking a nord with ice spells is not an ideal tactic._

But, even though he was inexperienced, he would advance faster than the prankster and the youngling. Ondolemar's lip tilted upwards as he remembered how seriously the young mage had responded to Ondolemar's questions and advice. _He will spare no effort while training, and I believe that he will not make the same mistake twice. He can be trusted to take his tasks seriously. _

He just needed to figure out whether he wanted to teach the young mer to be more aggressive or simply pair him with a team that already had a main striker. _A decision for later, after I finish reviewing reports. Estormo will not reach the level of skill required for acting as a full justiciar for at least a few weeks further. _He stroked his beard in thought. _That should be enough time to requisition guards from the Embassy to escort the delivery team when the group finally leaves for Winterhold. _

Decision made, he seated himself at his desk and pulled various reports out of the neat stacks. His smile slowly disappeared into a frown as he read through the current statuses of his justiciars.

Sanyon was still missing, Sagegrove and Athan were out with a party of Thalmor soldiers searching for the missing mer, and the First Emissary had claimed Adahl for the Embassy. She had no comments on the missing justiciar.

On his desk, there were reports of a group of soldiers going missing in the Pale a week prior. A note from the First Emissary warning him of the lack of cooperation from the Bard's College. More reports on uncovered Talos worshippers, observed troop movements, and casualties - all eventually filed neatly away and ready to be reviewed again if the need arose. He was missing a report from only one group - but they were almost always late, so he was not concerned.

Agents Alkinaere, Camore, and Grayael would report in within a week or so, and would return promptly to their current duty in the Reach: cutting off Stormcloak spies and uncovering hidden Talos worshippers. Forsworn attacks were common for those monitoring that route, so they often ran late whenever they were accosted by a hostile group.

He sneered. The Empire would not spare troops to monitor the roads. They couldn't even keep a group of primitive savages from raiding towns under their protection. His hands clenched into fists.

Ondolemar breathed deeply, forcing away memories of fire and blood.

He smoothed out his robes. Not his responsibility.

Those people had sided with the Empire, and supported its lies and excess. They were simply reaping the results of their misplaced loyalty.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Estormo opened the door to the common area with a stack of books in hand. Glancing in, he saw that the others had finished their daily training as well. Something was off, though. Quarrennen sat near the sleeping cots and was talking quietly with Minuen, where they would typically be in a game of chess. Enddilwe was reading a letter in a corner, not monitoring her surroundings for once, and Trendil was practicing throwing his daggers. Which would not have been unusual except for the extreme force being used. There were three daggers already sunk hilt deep in the target, and Trendil was pacing around the room with the last clenched in his hand.

Estormo waited until that final one was firmly embedded in the target before moving into the room.

Quarrennen glanced over, while Minuen took the time to grin and wave. He set the books down on the table and sat down. Trendil finished ripping his blades out of the ragged sack and began throwing again. Curious, but wise enough to contain it, Estormo decided to get to work. There was much reading that needed to be done before he could rest tonight. _I will not make a foolish mistake such as this morning's if I can help it_.

He pulled out the largest book of the stack - it was well-worn but well-kept. The thick, leatherbound cover read _"The Official and Extensive Guide to the Empire: Third Edition." _Estormo pried the tome open, scanning the appendices for mentions of Skyrim.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Hey, Quarrennen?" Minuen interrupted her brother's lecture - one that she had stopped listening to some time before. Right when he got into the talk about 'dishonor on the family' and 'could have been discharged'. He looked over to her, still stewing from earlier. _Hmph. Not as if he actually **drank** the wine. He's overreacting - I won't get kicked out just for a failed... experiment. And, It can't be a dishonor if it's all in good fun! _She huffed again before sidling closer. He glared at her, unamused.

She gestured for him to watch and looked pointedly at the rest of the room. He followed her gaze. Trendil had exhausted himself and was sitting on his cot in silence. That Adahl girl was as snooty as always, writing a letter or something in sweeping cursive. And the other mage was glaring at a book. He had completely lost concentration on the room around him, and every few seconds provided another grimace or narrowing of his eyes.

And Quarrennen had thought that she'd be left behind. _Leave the best archer and bring the children of the group instead? Ha. Not likely when the alternative is **this** crowd. _Trendil had just pulled out some rocks and started trying to juggle.

She looked back at Quarrennen. Then back to the mage - he looked like an expertly carved statue of disgust at that point of time. If looks could start fires then the book would be ash. Trendil nearly fell over trying to catch one rock, and the other still in the air hit him in the chest while he was recovering. _Oh Trendil._ She looked back and raised an eyebrow.

It only took a few minutes before her brother cracked, inhaling deeply and looking skyward for help. _Yes, brother, we're surrounded by children._ She turned around to collect her evening meal and left the room, her point made.

* * *

**9th of Hearthfire, 4E 201, Middas**

* * *

The road to Winterhold had taken a turn away from 'just' cold, and had officially reached 'freeze your fingers if you let them out of sight' temperatures. Her igloo was two feet thick and she only left to go to the bathroom - and only with the warmest blanket to huddle in. Meanwhile, Gjolrik was still sitting up front as if it was just another regular day. _Nords. _

It was too cold to continue drying her ingredients, so now they sat in her bag. She just hoped that she could sell them or something in Winterhold. Her lack of money _-my lack of **any** money at all, really- _would be a serious problem if not taken care of.

She sighed. _May as well practice a bit - it always passes the time._

Being stuck in a confined space with only her mind for company was maddening at times, but it meant that she was able to cast spells in peace. With nothing but time on her hands for the past week or so, she had practiced whenever she felt herself growing bored. - It had paid off.

_Plus, it helps keep me warm, and right now I'm reaching the point where I can't move either my fingers or my toes._

Evelyn focused, and the inside of the igloo glowed with silvery light. Warmth spread from her chest down to her hands and feet. She smiled when she regained feeling in her toes. In one hand rested her candlelight spell - a small orb of wispy tendrils, constantly shifting. They twisted along the surface, as well as below the surface. One could get lost peering into the depths of the miniature star.

Evelyn poked at the light with her left hand and it flared softly, casting off thin filaments of magicka. She gazed at it for a while longer before the air shifted, causing the orb to disperse into nothingness. She tried concentrating again but failed to conjure her candlelight again.

She frowned, listening, and then nodded when she heard the crunch of footsteps outside. Gjolrik was coming. _Oh. We've stopped. Did something happen?_

A knock on the cart and suddenly Gjolrik's face was looming into her igloo. He was grinning.

"We've arrived at Winterhold, miss, and we'll reach the city proper in an hour or so."

He left the back before she could reply, and the carriage started rolling soon afterward.

For once, the uncertainty in her stomach was not a result of the road. She started packing up her meager possessions and folded the blankets. Thankfully, they peeled off the wall, leaving the solid structure of packed snow and ice behind.

From the moment she packed the last of her dried flowers into her bag, to the moment the cart stopped in front of an iced over tavern, she watched the scenery.

Great stone walls, partially crumbled, stood surrounding the southern side of Winterhold. A few bedraggled guards looked up at their coming and waved the cart past quickly, but for the most part the city was empty. It was a ghost town.

A few wooden structures stood facing the road, and large stones littered the area. There was no one outside that she could see. It was already growing dark outside.

The cart rattled over the road, bumping along to a stop in front of the largest building. A sign above the doorway read "Frozen Hearth."

She stepped onto the ground, shivering, and Gjolrik led the carriage off. _I'm finally here - in Winterhold._

She didn't spare any more time before entering the inn, eager to escape the chilly winds.

* * *

"Wait, you say you have alchemical ingredients?" "Well, yes, but mainly mountain flowers, lavender, and tundra cotton," The altmer grinned. "That is perfect, how much are you willing to sell?"

At a loss for what to do, she pulled her sack up and pulled out the flowers. She had followed Zaria's instructions to a 't,' but she could see that at least one petal was wilting. _Should have given them more time to dry._ She set them on the table and waited.

The altmer - Nelacar, if she remembered correctly - took his time.

He ended up buying all of her tundra cotton, and the large majority of her lavender and red mountain flowers. And for respectable prices, too. She bought a room for the night with her new funds and still had 15 septims left over.

_I'll head to the College tomorrow._


	13. College Applications

**Chapter Thirteen: College Applications**

* * *

**10th of Hearthfire, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

For the first time she could ever remember, Evelyn woke before dawn.

There was no returning to sleep when all she could think about was how she was going to work through the upcoming day.

There would be a test - Faralda would be waiting on the bridge to give the entry test. _Flame atronach, firebolt, ...I can't remember the rest. Candlelight was one of the spells, right?_

She pulled up her candlelight, practicing the hand motions. The light hovered in her hands for a minute or so before fading away. _Acceptable. Now what about clairvoyance?_

She curled her fingers and a misty string flowed out of her palm, twisting to a stop at her bag. She could only get it to last a few seconds or so, but it worked.

_That's two spells that I can cast reliably._

_...But what if Faralda asks me to summon a flame atronach? I don't have enough septims to pay for the spell?_

_Could I just ask to talk with Savos?_

* * *

Evelyn barely made it one step out of the door before turning around to go back inside. She exited a few minutes later wearing a thick winter cloak and roughed up boots. And pocketing only a single septim. Pulling up the hood, she wrinkled her nose in disgust before walking down the porch steps. The fabric was stiff and it reeked of alcohol, but it **was** functional.

_And functionality trumps comfort._

She looked down at her three-sizes-too-big boots. _Case in point._

Turning north, she trudged through icy slush coating the main road. As every time she tried to look up at the College, she ended up blinded by freezing winds, Evelyn resigned herself to watching her feet for the remainder of the hike. The only evidence she could find for her progress was the gradual decline in windbreaks. With fewer buildings and more piles of rubble the farther she walked from the Inn, the winds growing worse meant that she was getting closer to the College of Winterhold. _And closer to the cliffs, too._ Evelyn pulled her hood farther over her face. _All the more reason to watch my feet._

The walk was a long one – or at least, longer than she had expected. Onward and upward she hiked, stepping over crushed rock and old stone. Passing collapsed walls and empty foundations. Gutted buildings, rusty red flakes on some snow to her right, and a massive slab of rock split in two over the road. She kept her eyes down and walked forward.

The only warning she had for when she reached the cliff was the sudden drop off in her view of the snow beneath her. The winds were so strong by that point that the farthest she could see was five feet in front of her. The snow whited out the rest of the landscape. With her visibility effectively zero, Evelyn backed away from the ledge and inched her way around until she could see a stone archway. _There._

All she could hear was the wind, which buffeted her from all sides.

Her foot slipped from beneath her and she fell sideways.

Clawing at the ground, she was able to halt her slide downward. But her cloak had been blown open and she could no longer feel her fingers. Curling up into a ball, Evelyn shivered and cast magelight to warm herself. It worked for a few minutes – enough time to recover from the shock of nearly dying. She pulled her cloak tight around her and stayed low to ground. She shuffled cautiously to the only standing structure that she could see.

It didn't look promising.

There were layers of ice coating the walkway and parts of the stonework were crumbling off to the side. Evelyn gulped and huddled into a ball at the start of the bridge. It was narrow, slick, and falling apart. _Is it too late to be having second thoughts? _She used magelight again for heat – or at least tried to. She couldn't get the light to appear. A deep sense of foreboding passed over her. She felt like someone was watching her.

She dropped down into the snow and tried to hide. _What creatures live up north here? Is it an ice wraith? Or something else? _She shivered as another wave of malevolence passed over her. The wind was muffled as she pulled her hood down as much as possible – to the point where she wouldn't be able to see ahead of her, even if she had wanted to. She pulled her knees up to her chest and focused on avoiding movement that could give her away.

Frozen half with fear and half with the cold, she only relaxed into her makeshift hiding spot when the terrible feeling lightened. She lifted her head up until she could see the bridge again. Nothing had changed since the arrival and passing of the creature. The bridge was as delicate looking as before, and the wind was still blasting over the cliffside. The gaze of whatever it was had drifted elsewhere, it seemed.

Evelyn shuffled around, but did not stand up. _Should I still go through with this? Surely there will be a day when the weather is nicer and more pleasant. _She thought back to Gjolrik's comments. _But, that might not be until Summer! I would need to stay at the Inn all through Winter and Spring. _She thought back to selling her books to Belethor. Maybe she could get a job? _What's another couple months? I've already stayed in Falkreath through the Spring. I could even practice more magic so that I'm better prepared for the entrance test. _

She squinted up at the bridge. She could make out the structure of the College walls, and even the glow from the central beacon. _I'm so __close__ though._ She looked behind her to see the ruins of Winterhold. The only buildings there that she could see were thoroughly destroyed. Her tracks only went back a few feet before they were indistinguishable from the rest of the fallen snow.

_Can__ I even go back? _

She couldn't see which direction she had come from, and her fingers were growing numb again.

She was running out of time to choose.

She looked toward the bridge. The walkway leading to the stone structure where the entrance exam takes place in the game.

She looked behind her. At the maze of dilapidated buildings, crumbling and ruined and covered in thick layers of snow.

She looked back ahead. _I'm too close to go back. _Evelyn frowned before she broke out into a grin.

_Faralda! She could help me get back if I need to! _

Evelyn stumbled to her feet and shuffled to a halt in front of the bridge. _It still looks really unsafe._

The wind pushed her back a step or two. _But I need to get to the testing spot – I'll either go back to the town or reach the College of Winterhold. Either way, I need to go forward._

Scowling at the winds, she got down on all fours and crawled up the icy path. _I don't care how ridiculous this looks. I'm being __safe__!_

She had to take breaks every few meters to wrap her hands up inside the cloak to warm them. She didn't dare operate with limbs that couldn't grip the path beneath her – the wind had reached a constant level of 'terrifyingly fast' and there was no way that she was about to get herself killed by recklessness.

She peeked over the edge to see endless white and crashing waves. _Although I'm pretty sure that this qualifies as 'reckless.' _

* * *

Inch by inch, she clawed her way to the archway. Pulling herself into the relatively sheltered area, there was a massive difference in the wind.

Evelyn could still hear it – the wind was a low moaning that permeated the entire structure – but she couldn't feel it anymore. The air in this pocket of space was comfortably still and warm. She shook the snow off her cloak and waited for it to thaw. _Now I can see how Faralda tolerated standing out here while waiting._ _It's actually quite pleasant here. _She stopped shaking the ice out of her sleeves. _Wait, where's Faralda?_

The air got warmer. "Oh my! What are you doing out here?"

Evelyn whirled around to see an old man with braided white hair and a beard. She recognized the voice and the face – it was Tolfdir.

_Why is Tolfdir here but not Faralda? And why does he look so out of breath? Did he run here? …Is this place really so different from the games? _

Her expression turned dark. _Maybe it's for the best that I didn't try to stay and spoil the ending for the Dragonborn. The advice may have ended up being fatal._

"Are you alright?"

Her feet were still frozen, her fingers were tender, and even with the warmer air, she couldn't stop shivering. She looked up at the older wizard.

"Do you realize how dangerous it is out here? You do know that the entrance exams are only held in the Summer months, yes?" He strode over to her and his hands lit up with golden light. Immediately, she felt warmth replace the cold aching in her limbs. She stopped shivering.

"I need to speak with the Arch-mage."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You walked out here, in the middle of Hearthfire, to have a talk with Arch-mage Aren?" "Yes, I have… questions."

Tolfdir considered her for a moment. "The Arch-Mage is typically very busy – I would be happy to answer your questions instead." Evelyn paused. _At least I can see if Tolfdir has any idea of what happened to me. If he knows, then I save myself the hassle of going into the College. If he has no idea, then I know that I have to go higher up to get answers. _

She set down her carrying sack and dug a hand inside, reaching for her phone. _Here goes nothing, I guess. _"So, a few months ago… I was chased out of my house and ended up in Falkreath. But, my house isn't in Skyrim." She took a deep breath. "It isn't even in-" Her vision blacked out.

* * *

She couldn't see Tolfdir or the snow. Evelyn couldn't see anything, really. Only darkness. The malevolent feeling from earlier had returned and was overpowering.

Curling up away from the void, she tried to make herself as small as possible.

She was surrounded by the sound of silence.

As time passed, her eyes adjusted enough to see changes in the blackness. Undulations of darker darkness mixed with glimmers of color. Sickly green and maroon. Then a sound pierced through.

* * *

She blinked to see blue and green eyes. Tolfdir was right in front of her, staring intently into her face.

There was a delayed moment of mutual shock before she scrambled back with a yelp. Tolfdir recovered the fastest. "What was that? It seemed that you could not hear anything that I was saying, so I investigated more closely. Nothing is wrong though, no need to worry – but it is rather fascinating that your subconscious restricts your memory so much… I even detected traces of magicka – some spell that I can't remember" Evelyn felt sick to her stomach. He rambled off into unintelligible mumbling. "Oh, what am I saying! You wanted to speak with Arch-mage Aren? Ask him a question? Yes? He doesn't typically offer assistance to those outside the College, but I'm sure he would be willing to help an apprentice." He gestured to her. "And you seem to want to learn something, at least. We typically only accept those with the aptitude, though, so would you mind taking the test?" Evelyn responded with a shaky nod.

"What do I need to cast?"

Interrupted from his silent monologue, Tolfdir stuttered. "Well, typically an aspiring apprentice would cast… what was it… a spell." He smiled and nodded slowly. "Yes, a spell that demonstrates skill in the magical arts. Why don't you choose a spell and I will observe your skill in casting it?" _Ok. I can work with that… time to cast candlelight._

She focused inward and searched for her magicka, only to find shadowed emptiness.

* * *

Evelyn searched. _**Breathe**. Don't forget to breathe._ She couldn't find her magicka – She would find it. She clenched her fists, bending all of her attention on pulling her ball of light out of hiding – she needed it to work just this one time!

_I didn't come up all this way to fail!_ Her eyes misted up. _I didn't nearly die in the snow to stop here! I _**_need_**_ to get in!_ Her magicka could go and hide for the rest of her days if it would simply help her get into the College.

Seconds passed.

They grew into minutes.

She felt her chest constricting and it grew harder and harder to concentrate.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, dear, but some people just aren't born with the innate power to use magic."

_But I **can** use magic – although apparently only when no one is nearby to mess up my concentration!_ "It takes a large amount of concentration to cast spells – it is alright that you can't-"

Evelyn interrupted him. "But I can cast magic – I memorized most of the spell tome for candlelight! This spell is supposed to create a hovering ball of light!" Tolfdir stopped his appeasing speech. "You move your hands like so, and then you-" Tolfdir waited patiently for her tirade to end before speaking up. "You learned this from a spell tome? Memorized it? Why don't you show me which one? It might have been defective."

She pulled out the spell tome, in all of its glimmering glory. Tolfdir frowned and took it from her outstretched hands. He rifled through the pages. He finished and looked up to Evelyn. "I can't find anything wrong with this tome, but you really should have activated the enchantments on it if you were, as you said, able to memorize large portions of the text." "I memorized the first fifteen chapters, but I didn't have the time to get to the last three." She watched as Tolfdir's face grew stern. _He doesn't believe me._ "They seemed to be references to future alteration spells, so I prioritized the chapters actually dedicated to learning the spell." With a careful movement, Tolfdir closed the book and stared at her. "What does the twenty-third page say, then?"

She froze. _Twenty-third page?! I didn't memorize them based on pages – only chapters and main ideas! _She looked at the closed spell tome. _Twenty-three pages in would be around the beginning. It would be past the introduction, but a choice between the first seven chapters is not useful. _"If it helps, that is the second page of chapter three." _Ah, yes. Chapter three. Dedicated to hand motions. _She began reciting all that she could remember. "I am not entirely sure where that page starts off, but chapter three covers the 'positions and orientations of limbs in the preparation, inception, and continuation of the spell,' as the chapter title says." She droned on as he consulted the book - likely to verify her answers.

The more questions from Tolfdir that she answered, the more concerned he looked. She knew that she was answering correctly – her one activity over her multiple-month journey to Winterhold was reading her two spell tomes. She had read through each of them too many times to remember.

But still, it was nerve-wracking to see the frown growing on the old mage's face.

Eventually, he ran out of chapters to ask about. He investigated the book one more time before pulling another tome out of his pouch. He handed it to her. "Read this."

She flipped it over to read the cover – it was a tome for "warm," whatever that meant. This time it was Evelyn's turn to frown in confusion. _I don't recognize this from the game. _She opened up the cover and began reading through the table of contents. Tolfdir moved to hover over her shoulder.

"Well, what does it say?"

"I'm reading the table of contents right now – the theory is all in chapters two and three, and there is only one chapter for hand motions." She turned the page to the introduction. "It looks far less complicated than magelight." _Hmm… let's see, its main purpose is to keep something warm. No damage, no range... just heating - and way fewer things to remember. _She began acting out the steps to cast the spell while Tolfdir observed.

He was just sitting there with a blank face. _What is he thinking?_

"This is how you are supposed to cast it, right?" She looked sideways at the nord. "Well, yes, but it seems that the enchantments aren't working for you." He stroked his beard. "Typically, that would mean that the reader doesn't have the aptitude, but you have the skill necessary to read the pages and use the information. You performed the spell quite well, for a first try, so I'm not sure where that leaves you. This spell is the easiest to cast out of all the others I know. Theoretically, anyone should have been able to cast it. I once taught a passing adventurer this spell, and he couldn't even read."

"So you're saying that the enchantments on this should have taught me the spell – without the need for memorization." He nodded. "Exactly. The enchantments are set to impart all the information within if the reader is able enough. If it doesn't work, it means that you either already know a spell, or do not have the talent to cast it."

"So where does that leave me? I still need to ask the Arch-mage about-"

Darkness flashed in front of her - a deep pit of nothingness.

She opened her eyes and Tolfdir was, yet again, far too close for comfort. She backed away uneasily.

"Simply fascinating! This is far outside of my realm of expertise - Drevis might be a better choice - I sensed some powerful illusion magic when you froze up that time. I'll need to talk with Sergius about how the enchantments work – yes, yes. maybe I could ask Urag?"

Evelyn swallowed as Tolfdir continued rambling.

"Oh, and we'll need to get you a room… Mirabelle could find you a spot, I'm sure of it."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, so I can stay?"

"Of course! It wouldn't be the College of Winterhold if we turned away those seeking knowledge!"

She looked sideways at Tolfdir. "So what was the test for?"

"That was to see if you had the skill to become a student of magic at the College. With your lack of any magicka, so far as I can see, that path is closed to you. But - you are still free to join as a student of non-magical subjects. Your education will just be directed by our master librarian instead of the master wizard." He walked to the edge of the arch and gestured for Evelyn to come over.

Not one to be left behind, and still in shock, she followed Tolfdir while he crossed the rest of the bridge. She could hardly feel any wind as they passed each successive glowing blue beacon, and eventually reached the gate.

With a muttered word from the mage, the gate swung open silently.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"We do not turn away those who wish to learn. There is enough fear and ignorance of magic without the College refusing to teach those who wish to study."

"I still think that this is a ploy to gain access to the College. Tolfdir is terrible about exercising good judgment when it comes to learning…" She looked to the Arch-mage. "Do you really think that she is under a memory-altering spell, like Tolfdir seems to think?"

The dunmer gazed down at the master wizard confidently. "I'm not certain as to her situation, but I am willing to consider it. You know how Tolfdir gets when he finds a mystery. Next week, he will probably have a new theory, and then another the week afterward. What I am sure about, however, is that you will find a place for her. You managed to find a position to satisfy the Thalmor spy – this girl is rather harmless in comparison to Ancano." He turned back to his studies. "I believe Urag could actually benefit from this situation - he needs help reorganizing the Arcanaeum, and an apprentice might help his attitude grow more… welcoming."

With a sigh, Mirabelle acquiesced. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

In the darkness of her new room, filled with empty crates and half-unpacked furniture, Evelyn sat.

She waited patiently, eyes closed. Time passed.

The evening turned into nighttime, and it was past midnight before there was any change in her position.

If anyone were awake at the time, they would have seen a dim glow emanating from her room.

She grinned in victory. _I _**_can _**_cast magic._

Bags under her eyes and hair a rat's nest, she looked to her little ball of light.

She remembered the land of nothingness that she had found herself in earlier that day.

_…So what went wrong?_


	14. The Arcanaeum

**Chapter Fourteen: The Arcanaeum**

* * *

**11th of Hearthfire, 4E 201, Fredas**

* * *

Waking up to the sound of arguing was not on Evelyn's to-do list for the day, but there was yelling coming from one of the floors below her. Yawning, she pulled a limp pillow over her head and tried to go back to sleep. _Why are they being so loud! It's not like they can't viciously whisper at each other instead. _She frowned into the pillow. _They don't need me awake to steer the carriage… _

_Wait. **They**. There are people and they aren't Gjolrik. _She rolled over and squinted around the room.

_Right! I'm at the College!_

Wooden crates were pushed up against walls, and a few of them looked like the last time that they had been opened had been before she was born. With the thick layers of dust and cobwebs, she was suspecting that it had been even longer than that. Her pack was on the floor near the bed, and some neatly folded clothing was sitting on a barrel near the bed. _It must have been dropped off earlier_. She sat up and investigated the pile.

There was a dull and slightly stained set of college robes, along with a pair of college boots and a piece of folded paper. It was from Urag gro-Shub, "Master Librarian and keeper of the Arcanaeum at the College of Winterhold," and addressed to "novice." _Guess that means me. _She took a few seconds to scan the neatly written note. It was thankfully short and direct, but that also meant that it spared no room for niceties or manners.

"This is the standard uniform for college members. You will wear it. Report to the Arcanaeum in the morning for your first assignment."

_Report in the morning!? _She looked around for a window, but there weren't any that she could find. _Please don't let it be morning - I can't be late on my first day! _Eyes widening, she all but threw herself out of bed.

She tossed her old boots into a corner and pulled the new ones on. Then, she scrambled to change into the College's robe, all the while silently cursing its lack of zippers and identifying tags. She pinched herself with a few buckles and ended up just running down the stairs. She prayed that nothing was on backward.

Evelyn flew down past two people – no time to see who they were. _Why did they need to give me a room on the very top floor!? _She jumped the last few steps of the flight of stairs, landing awkwardly and only narrowly avoiding a fall. Panting, she was already out of breath. _And why are there so many floors?_ _I don't remember climbing up this many yesterday! _After reaching the ground level, she bolted out the door into the courtyard. Her calves were burning and she was pretty sure that she'd stubbed her toe on the way out, but she needed to get to the Arcanaeum, darn it!

The sky was dark and cloudy, so she couldn't tell if the lack of light was due to the time or the weather. There was another person outside, whom she ignored. She was too busy speed walking for her life to see who was standing around in the snow.

Once inside the main building – _isn't it called the Hall of the Elements?_ – she turned to the stairwell. And mentally groaned. Unlike the stairs she used to get down from her room, these stairs went **up**. Evelyn tried to slow her breathing down while she dragged herself up the flight of stairs.

And then the next flight of stairs. And the next.

_Really, these stairs just keep going in a never-ending loop. _She thought back to the high ceiling of the Hall of the Elements – and how high up she'd need to climb before reaching the next level. _Rest in pieces, poor legs of mine. _

On her way up, she had time to stew over her inability to use magic during the test, and the blackness she saw when trying to talk about Earth. Her frustration made a good motivator, but it didn't change the reality that her legs were exhausted.

_Just like hoping that Savos Aren or someone here can send me back to Earth doesn't change the fact that I'm stuck here. _She tripped on a stair and dropped to her knees painfully. _It's already been months since I got trapped here - they probably think I'm dead. _She used the cracks in the stonework as handholds to pull herself up. _I can't tell people where I'm from, I can't find anything to help me get back._

She took a short break on the next landing before continuing upward.

_I can't do anything except keep going._

Her legs were in a constant state of despair and shaking. _I need to keep going._

At a few points, she had to crawl on her hands and knees because her legs gave out, but she managed. Thankfully, no one came up or down the stairs while she struggled upward.

At the top, she broke out into a rueful smile, grinning at the ceiling. _Maybe I can at least get an 'E' for effort? _She pulled herself up the last step. _Or brownie points for nearly dying on these stairs? _She leaned on the wall, slowly sliding down into a crouch, finally dropping all pretenses of strength to sit on the ground in a shaking mess.

Evelyn spent a few seconds panting on the floor before dragging herself back to her feet. At the door, she straightened her robes and breathed in deeply.

_No direction to go except forward._

* * *

She opened the door to see books everywhere. The Arcanaeum was absolutely massive, rising at least four more stories. There were books on the shelves, books on the tables, and books stacked up neatly on the floor. On a pedestal behind a glass wall stood a rack of staves from different schools of magic, along with a few miscellaneous objects. Evelyn could see a pair of glowing boots, some intricately designed gloves, and a bucket filled with metal rings.

Someone was climbing up and down the ladders hanging from the upper walkways - searching for something, it seemed. Several others were ambling about in College robes, picking at a pile of books here, a bookshelf there, and overall looking extremely uncertain.

And in the middle of all the books and furniture sat an orsimer. He glared at the students checking out books and sneered at those using clairvoyance to find their research materials. One student even earned a growl when he nearly knocked over a tall stack of books. With her entrance, his eyes narrowed in on her.

She stopped gawking, feeling her face warm up as she picked her way over to the desk as carefully as possible. The orsimer just continued glaring at his surroundings. Her legs still felt like jello.

"What?" The orc's voice was low and smooth – not what she had been expecting. "Do you need to check out research materials? Or do you need help finding the archives?" His voice was dripping with contempt.

"I'm here as the new apprentice-" "Novice." "-Novice, yes." She tried to slow down her breathing. "I'm the new novice – I just got here yesterday." She looked around the library. "The note said to come here…?" She was out of her depth and it showed.

The orc snorted. "You're late." He reached under the desk, grumbling. "Not that I expected any different. Here." He handed her a thick book. Other than all the place markers and slips of paper tucked into the pages, it was unremarkable. "You will sort the books on the floor."

He reclined into his chair and pulled out another leather-bound book. "I will check over your progress at the end of the day." After a pause, he continued. "And do **not **put the books back on the shelf without checking with **me** first."

And with that, he began looking through his book. Purposefully ignoring her as she stood in the middle of the room, at a loss of what to do.

She glanced to the heavy book in her hands, and flipped to a random page. From top to bottom it was covered with tiny cursive handwriting. The pages near the end and at the front were similarly filled. In places, the writing looked more like continuous loops than actual letters. _Why must it be in cursive? _

She walked on tired legs over to a corner and looked closer at the ledger that she'd been given. From what she could see, each line listed a title of a book, the author, and then a bunch of numbers and keywords. "A Brief History of the Empire, V1" was authored by a Stronach K'Thojj III, and categorized as history. Right after it came "Divad the Singer," by Destri Melarg, also in history. Expecting another history tome, she was surprised that the next book was a fiction novel. Eyes narrowing, Evelyn flipped a few more pages and found the second volume of the 'brief histories' series. She reviewed the ledger entries with a growing sense of horror. _Nothing in here is alphabetically, or even numerically, ordered. _She grimaced. _These records aren't even sorted by category or author!_

She stared up at the head librarian, who was calmly reading through the same book as earlier.

_I normally don't mind organizing things, but this is ridiculous! Why is he having me sort all of these using such **un**organized records? What's the point?! _

The orsimer turned a page languidly.

She looked back to the piles upon piles of books on the floor. _He can't expect me to finish all of these today, can he? It would take a while even without needing to dig through this disaster of a book-keeping ledger!_

_But… Delaying won't help on that front. The College is likely the best place for me to stay - I'm already here, if nothing else. I need to make sure that these people like me. And if that means doing idiotically pointless things, then so be it._

With a grim sigh, she resigned herself to sorting for the day.

_Look at the bright side - I'm getting free lodging and food, according to what Tolfdir was spouting yesterday. Maybe I can find some interesting books while I'm in here?_

She started rifling through her first stack, making a note to herself to read the one on the Merethic Era at some point in the future.

Time blurred as she worked.

..._At least it's something to do._

* * *

**24th of Hearthfire, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

Today would be the first day where she wouldn't be slaving over the book piles, and Evelyn was curious to see what Urag would have her doing next. She thought back to her previous time in the Arcanaeum, walking to the Arcanaeum on autopilot.

It had taken nearly two full weeks for Evelyn to finish sorting through the books. Two weeks of waking up early, killing her legs on the stairs, and then spending the majority of the day sifting through the unremarkable book ledger of doom. Following Urag's later orders, she had sorted them by category and author, as well as by publishing date. It was two weeks of shuffling around the Arcanaeum, watching in despair whenever a student came in to either drop off or check out research materials. Every time that happened, she would glare at them silently from behind a pillar, working on whichever pile she was on at the time. They would set their used books down on the nearest stack - heedless of whether or not it was a sorted stack, neatly piled and obviously in proper order, or a true drop-off stack, chaotic and typically unbalanced.

She shuddered at the thought, reaching the door to the courtyard. _No more of that._

After the - _secretly diabolical_ \- student left, she had to stop whatever she was doing to investigate the drop-off spot. Unsorted books were removed and quarantined in her pile, and then she would continue her work. More rifling through old and barely-legible cursive.

_I'm glad that Urag let me keep a list of interesting books - otherwise, I might have died of boredom. Now I've got over two pages of books to look into in my free time._ Scrap pieces of paper from a failed scroll had been easy to obtain, and Urag allowed her to use a spare set of quills and ink.

Of course, she had to keep the ink far away from any of the Arcanaeum books at all times, but Evelyn wasn't surprised.

_After all of the sorting I did for this library, I might attack someone myself if they mess with the books too much._ It was actually pretty scary - she could see why Urag was so foul-tempered all the time. She started walking up the stairs in the Hall of Attainment, thinking about her strange professor of sorts.

He truly was quite grumpy - just not as hostile as she first thought. He would still grumble around whenever he checked her progress, but he ignored her for the most part during the day. In fact, the orsimer never spoke at all except to students coming in to rent research materials, which Evelyn was happily surprised to see included the staves and rings in the display cases. An opinion that it seemed both she and Urag shared. He was downright friendly whenever a student came in to rent a staff or two for experiments. The days that a student came in with no books to leave lying around were good days indeed.

Reviewing the past events, Evelyn was moderately certain that Urag was secretly a nice person. She couldn't see a true grouch taking the time to help a novice spellcaster figure out how to use a staff. _Although, that could be because he loves anyone who leaves his books in peace._

Shaking her head, Evelyn finished her hike up the stairs and entered the Arcanaeum.

She had to blink to be certain that she wasn't imagining it, but the orsimer was levitating the books from her piles back to the shelves. _That must be telekinesis. _A deft hand movement and a bookcase on the third level opened and closed. He had his back to the entrance, but waved her in nonetheless.

"You have done an... acceptable job organizing these. You are ready for your first lesson. Now, what is your area of study?"

She was at a loss. _Alchemy? Collecting ingredients? _Her indecision must have shown, because he rose an eyebrow her way, huffing to himself.

"Don't have one yet?" He gestured to the library. "Fix that. Find something to study, and come back when you have it decided." He went back to distributing the sorted books. Evelyn overheard some of his grumblings. "...Stupid novices...no idea what..."

Smiling, she pulled out her sheets of paper listing interesting books, and looked into them more closely.

Being ever so careful to put the books back **exactly** where they were found after she finished scanning their contents, of course.

Considering that exploring 'the nature of magic' was the research of essentially every mage that had ever existed, she decided to try another topic. She had also wanted to figure out how enchanting worked - _do the souls stay in the weapons?_ _or do they go away?_ \- but judging by the large number of articles on enchanting, that topic had been well-documented centuries ago. She could just read about it.

She didn't care about zombies that worshipped dragons - there were no mysteries there. Just draugr. That left only two options - the Dwemer or the Falmer.

She thought about her choices. _The Falmer were the ones who caused the night of tears - was it to get the Eye of Magnus? How would they have known about it? How did they turn into present-day Falmer? And how did Gelebor survive so long?_

The Dwemer had already been investigated in thorough detail by the likes of Calcelmo. The Falmer, on the other hand, were only recorded in a couple of tomes written by obscure authors, or in children's nursery rhymes - the bogeyman hiding in the dark. Every minute she spent wondering brought up another mystery surrounding the snow elves. Questions that she could never get an answer to in the game.

Questions that she could investigate since she was here.

_The Falmer it is._

Decision made, and Urag-approved shortly afterward, she was off to gather the materials for research. Papers and the extra quill and ink set. She settled down in a chair and began reading, taking notes periodically. Urag wanted a summary of all the current knowledge on the Falmer as her first assignment, so a summary of **all** of it would be what she'd give him.

Evelyn's mind was occupied by imaginings of the historical records. Scenes of the snow prince riding to battle only to be defeated by a young nord girl.

She didn't even notice that Urag had let her use the quill so near the books. Or that he was looking at her rather thoughtfully as she scribbled down summaries of each event. Every inch of her exemplifying a dutiful student. He smiled to himself and returned to his book.

Meanwhile, in the back of Evelyn's mind, she relaxed.

She had a new task.


	15. Questions and Lectures

**Chapter Fifteen: Questions and Lectures**

* * *

**21st of Frostfall, 4E 201, Middas**

* * *

"The problem is that all these accounts differ!" Evelyn carried a stack of books over to the Merethic Era bookcase and began putting them away. "**One** book says that even the women and children were killed in cold blood, and **another** states that the snow elves ignored noncombatants." She set the last book down carefully before resuming her rant, gesturing wildly with newly freed hands.

"One author claims that the snow elves were after something in Saarthal, while the first two **swear** that the elves were motivated by the growing strength of the human population alone, and that Saarthal was nothing more than a symbol for the growing might of the Atmoran peoples."

Climbing down the ladder from the third floor, her voice remained easily audible. "One **particularly** ambitious author claims that it was all a lie crafted by the Atmorans to justify their invasion of Skyrim!" After a quick glance to be certain Urag was still listening, she started forward.

She paced around the outer walkway, staring blankly at the ground ahead. "And that's not even covering the articles on what the Atmoran – Snow Elf relations were like prior to Saarthal. I have 'eyewitness accounts' of snow elves conducting raids against the initial Atmoran scouting parties, and others who claim that there was no evidence of any aggression until the Night of Tears." She looked upward to the ceiling of the Arcanaeum and sighed, watching as she passed each column in the loop. _And some that paint the snow elves as vicious thrall-keepers and haters of all things related to the Atmorans. _

Softer, and solely to herself, she mumbled on. _I can see the thrall argument – the falmer keep thralls, at least in Blackreach. But - I don't know if they kept thralls back in the Merethic Era. The author who claimed the falmer were thrall-keepers seemed rather biased against the snow elves, while a few scholars from the First Age argued that the falmer had a feudal kingdom of sorts rather than a slave empire._

She picked up her pace after realizing that she'd nearly stopped during her musings.

_While I am essentially certain on the fact that the Eye of Magnus played a role in the Night of Tears, I still don't know exactly **how** it influenced events. Or if the Atmorans even wanted to use the Eye – was it a weapon? Did they even know what it was? How did the snow elves first learn of the Eye, and what did they hope to accomplish by enacting the Night of Tears?_

One question led to another and soon she was engulfed in more unsolved mysteries, no closer to solving the first than the last question.

_How did the Eye of Magnus come to be stuck in a crypt below Saarthal? Was it buried there or did the Atmorans discover it below the surface?_

_Why does it cause so much trouble? Does it possess Ancano, or does Ancano just spontaneously go crazy? ...Was he always crazy?_

She grimaced to herself, wringing her hands._ Either way, there are too many variables with too many conflicting sources to make heads or tails of what is going around that thing._

None of the books she had read had given her any idea of what was going on with the Night of Tears. The 'researchers' were like wolves – insulting the work and beliefs of their peers while promoting their theories as the 'obvious' choices_. _

_I don't know who to trust when they're all biting at each others' throats. In fact, if I didn't know better…_

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The novice was pacing again.

Urag watched the girl walk around the Arcanaeum. She was staring hard at the tiles below her, too lost in thought to look up when she passed his desk. For the fourteenth time. He sighed to himself. _This will take a while._

An eyebrow rose. She had apparently forgotten to finish informing him of her progress. But, at least it didn't look like she was shirking her work. The table she was working at was piled with stacks of papers of different sizes and heights, and he'd watched her work through ink over the weeks.

If anything, her forgetfulness saved him the trouble of listening to another one of her disjointed speeches. She jumped from topic to topic too quickly for her to have been a trained scholar, and she left too many thoughts unfinished to be considered professional, but he didn't think she meant ill. That didn't mean her talks weren't hard to make sense of – just that she was at least trying. He huffed to himself as she passed by for the seventeenth time, and reflected on the novel situation of having a non-mage in the Arcanaeum.

Urag could never say that he was happy with Savos giving him an 'assistant' – as if he needed one! – but he wasn't stupid, either. The novice wasn't an idiot like many of the students and respected the books adequately. She didn't bother him with meaningless jabber and made acceptable time sorting for one who couldn't use magic, so he let her handle the reshelving of the books – the common ones, at least. He found that the arrangement left him with quite a bit more time for research. Urag frowned and glared at the novice's back. Didn't mean that he needed to thank anyone for the -_unnecessary_\- help, though.

Time passed. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slowed to a stop near her table and picked up a paper from a stack. After a half hour of constant circling, she had finally found something else to do.

What could he say? It was a slow day – no one had visited since the two new nord apprentices earlier that morning, and he had already finished compiling the records Savos requested. He'd counted the tiles in the ceiling and floor in the Third Era - then recounted them a decade or so later. There was nothing to do but sit and read.

And watch the novice wander about on her project. His long appointment to the Arcanaeum made him well versed in being still and silent, so it was no wonder that she often forgot that he was present. If left to her own devices long enough, she would even start talking to herself. His eyes narrowed. _I still haven't found out what the girl meant by 'copyright infringement laws' and the 'scientific method.' _

He shook his head as she scribbled along with a stick of charcoal. This novice was one of the strangest he'd seen, and he'd met Telvanni wizards.

Setting the paper back down, the girl stood up and moved around the outer edge of the Arcanaeum. Thankfully, she stopped at a bookcase instead of walking more circles._ What is the novice doing now? _His eyes were just above the level of the ledger he was 'reading.'

He sat in his chair and watched -very carefully- as she started removing books.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

After finishing her work at the Arcanaeum for the day, Evelyn rushed downstairs to the Hall of Elements. She had finished alphabetizing the poetry bookcase later than expected. _I don't want to be late - it's awkward enough already._

She looked into the room to see that the professor wasn't present yet. _Thank goodness. I need time to get my notes set up._

Evelyn felt her face heat as she sped-walked to the group of novices and sat down. As the only one who ever brought supplies to take notes, she was also the only one who needed to sit down - the lack of clipboards for hard surfaces and the sacredness of books meant that the only hard surface to write on was the floor. And woe unto her if she accidentally set her papers on a patch of melted snow that someone had tracked in.

While she settled herself out of the way of the others and pulled out her quill, the rest of the students just stood. Of the people in the room – two nords that Evelyn was reasonably certain were twins, a redguard woman who looked bored, and an argonian – she was the only one who didn't have a spell at the tips of her fingers. The redguard had fire dancing up her arms, the air around the twins was swirling with tiny flakes of snow, and the argonian was practicing casting with some form of red energy - probably an illusion spell.

Evelyn's hands were plain except for a few ink smudges. She sighed.

She knew that she was an oddity – a novice with 'no magicka.' Both the students and the teachers had given her strange looks on the first day that she sat down to listen, but she had stuck with it, attending every pre-dinner lecture. She was allowed to go to all the lectures as a student, but there wasn't any reason for a non-mage to attend the evening lectures, because those tended to cover casting methods for the varying schools of magic. They were essentially the only lectures that wouldn't help her, as far as the rest of the College knew, but she went anyway.

Her stubbornness had paid off. For every new spell demonstrated, she had taken detailed notes on her scrap pieces of paper. She would practice the spell casting methods in her room after dinner until she either fell asleep or succeeded in the casting. Evelyn smiled to herself. _Thanks to my spell notes, this novice with 'no magicka' can now conjure a tiny ward, cast flames, and heal papercuts. __Ah! And I can't forget warming things. I never knew how useful Tolfdir's spell would be for warming cold soup._

All eyes turned to the door when their teacher entered. The tall altmer woman stepped up to the magicka beacon in the center of the room and addressed the students. Faralda would be this evening's instructor, and she would be going over shock spells. Evelyn flipped through her papers to the page titled 'Destruction Spells' and prepared to take notes.

_I wonder if there is a shock equivalent of the warming spell? That could be useful..._

* * *

Midway through the lecture, a blast of cold air passed over the class. The main door shut quietly and she felt as if she was being watched. Determined not to miss any details, she tried to ignore her discomfort.

The twins shifted uneasily, and Faralda grew quiet after a minute or two. Evelyn focused on not drawing attention to herself. She had an idea of who it was, but it was only when the newcomer spoke that she confirmed her suspicions.

"Well? As you were." The sneer was audible.

_Ancano._

_I've been lucky so far to have avoided him - he must not visit the Arcanaeum much._

Evelyn kept her eyes on her papers and stalled for time by 'double checking' each line. _Maybe I should aim to spend more time in the Arcanaeum?_ There was silence in the room for a long moment before Faralda started speaking again. She resumed her note-taking, but something was off - the lecture topic had changed completely. Faralda was now apparently covering the different aspects of safety when casting, a topic which was, even for novices, rather basic. Evelyn scrambled to flip to another page of her notes before she fell farther behind.

She jotted down a few points. _Good news is that this new topic isn't advanced at all, so I don't really need to take notes. The bad news is... It's duller than dirt._ Evelyn felt her eyes drifting shut on a few occasions, and saw that one of the twins had, in fact, started nodding off. But, Ancano still would not leave. The Thalmor was hovering somewhere behind her but she couldn't hear any signs of movement. _He's probably just standing there, staring. _

She almost dropped her quill when she finally heard a shift of robes behind her. He was closer than she had expected. In a second, she was wide awake and forcing her breathing to slow, trying to look as busy and unimportant as possible. _Just taking notes. Nothing to see here. _She noticed that some of the other novices were feeling similarly - they had started fidgeting with their robes, uneasily keeping their eyes focused on the Destruction master in front of them. Looking anywhere other than the thalmor stalking them from behind.

All through this, Faralda droned about how to put out unwanted fires. And how to properly treat research materials. And what to do if a student was uncertain about an item's safety.

Time probably passed faster at the DMV than in the Hall of Elements that day.

* * *

When the lecture finally ended, Evelyn had to restrain herself from bolting outside. She had to be careful with her writing supplies or Urag might murder her.

The other students were not thus limited, and within a few seconds the hall was emptied save for Faralda, Ancano, and Evelyn. She didn't need to look up to know that the two altmer were glaring at each other.

The ink and quill were safely stored before the swish of fabric came from her right. Black robes trimmed with gold. She swallowed. _At least he's not staring down at me. But, he's still right there. _She felt like she was being too jerky as she tried to stack her papers up, but she wanted to get out of there. _It's time to go now. _She accidentally dropped a page, wincing when it landed near a small puddle. She shuffled over to pick it up.

A door opened and shut. _Who is it now?_

"Ancano, please refrain from terrorizing the students."

With that, the mer moved away, likely to intercept the master wizard and explain his side of things. This gave Evelyn the room she needed to grab the paper and shuffle to her feet.

She could have hugged Mirabelle at that moment - if it wouldn't have been incredibly awkward. Placing the wayward sheet back in her stack, Evelyn vacated the room and all but ran to the Hall of Attainment, leaving before anything else happened.

Once outside, she relaxed, breathing out shakily.

* * *

The rest of the evening was, thankfully, uneventful. The evening meal came and went, leaving the students to their own devices for the rest of the night. Evelyn hiked up to her room on the top floor and sat on her bed, deep in thought. Ancano's appearance had reminded her that there was danger ahead. The Eye of Magnus would be found and Ancano would go crazy. Savos would die, then Mirabelle, and then someone would need to get the Staff of Magnus and kill Ancano.

In terms of the quest points, nothing had happened yet. None of the apprentices from the game were currently attending the College. _But, the quest could be different than the game's. Tolfdir was the one who let me into the College instead of Faralda._

Her thoughts shifted to the friendly old alteration master.

He had not suggested a trip to Saarthal during any of his ward lessons, but it could only be a matter of time. Evelyn was certain that a trip to the site of the Night of Tears would eventually happen. Tolfdir was too curious to let it sit uninvestigated.

Evelyn grimaced. There would be a terrible amount of death and danger if the Eye was brought up.

She put her head in her hands. That's what it was: death. Savos and Mirabelle weren't just code and pixels on a screen anymore. They had lives and emotions. They could feel, and they weren't bad people. Evelyn could still remember Mirabelle giving her a tour of the College of Winterhold, patiently explaining everything to the magicka-less novice that finagled her way into the College.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The short breton woman gestured to the room. "You will be staying here, with your fellow novices. Food is served on the second floor at dawn and after dusk - I would not recommend being late." Mirabelle turned around and strode back downstairs, Evelyn jogging to catch up. She was in a daze.

It was all so overwhelming. She had reached the College and then failed the entrance exam. But she had gotten in. Mirabelle had let her in, taking one look at her after Tolfdir's introduction before showing her around the College. The master-wizard was very matter-of-fact and didn't mince her words, but she answered all of Evelyn's questions calmly. One response, in particular, stuck with Evelyn.

"No, you will not have to pay for food." Evelyn thought she heard the woman sigh, but couldn't be sure. "As a member of the College, you will enjoy its hospitality. And, so long as you uphold the College's honor and put effort into your studies, you will remain a member here."

She didn't need to hunt for ways to make money in order to survive.

Meaning that she could rest here - or at least as much as a dimensionally displaced human could rest.

She had a place to stay here at the College.

Evelyn smiled as she trailed after the master wizard, who was describing the history of the magicka wells and their temperature moderating enchantments.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn shut her eyes. Mirabelle was a person now - she couldn't change that.

And she could curse her stupid feelings but she couldn't stand by and hope the College questline went exactly the same as the one in the game. People were going to die if things followed the game plot.

_But - does it **need** to follow the script? Could I change what happens?_

Her brows furrowed, Evelyn retrieved a blank paper and some charcoal from her supplies. She wouldn't be sleeping for some time yet - there were plans to make.

_Hmmm... What if the Eye was never found? Or if..._

Her dreams that night were filled with images of a glowing blue orb and an elaborate staff, each covered with indecipherable runes and patterns.


	16. Gophers

**Chapter Sixteen: Gophers**

* * *

At the highest point of the highest peak in Tamriel, a place so far above the land that clouds would never touch it, a hooded figure walked.

Grey robes, grey eyes, and grey beard, he pulled a cart behind him. The man walked to the word wall and bowed.

Behind the stone, a head snaked over. Massive and weathered, with white scales faded and stained until they nearly matched the man's robes, the dragon moved out of the white snow.

As the dragon pulled its bulk over the stone and settled down, the only colors present on the peak made their appearance. A long gash, partly healed, running along the dragon's side. Bite marks, burns, and large patches of discolored scales. A horn broken off completely. Old and new wounds alike marred the ancient dragon.

The greybeard lifted the tarp off of the cart and presented it to the dragon.

"**Kogaan, fahdon**. Thank you, friend. I am grateful for your** ofan**. For your gifts." The dragon picked out the meat from the cart, eating at a leisurely pace.

"As I have said before, we are ever grateful for your protection of the monastery."

The dragon nibbled at a well-singed deer haunch.

"What kind of teacher would I be if I abandoned my **kiir** \- my students? I only wish that I had been able to **viik rok**, to defeat him more thoroughly. Alduin will return. **Zu'u ni mindok fod**. I simply know not when." The dragon looked skyward, and then back to his visitor. "**Pogaas krosis**, that my **zeymah** \- my brother - has returned."

He stared at the empty sky, towards Skuldafn. "Many sorrows, indeed."

* * *

**22nd of Frostfall, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

Evelyn ate her breakfast in silence, still stewing over her options.

On one hand, she knew that the Eye would be found by picking up an enchanted necklace, and that whoever finds it would have been sent by Arniel Gane. _The College is stuck in the dark until Tolfdir sends the lucky apprentice over to the Arch-Mage, at which point they would have to find some stolen books._

Evelyn stopped her thinking process. _Stolen books. _

_If I see an altmer named Orthorn, I'm going to tell Urag to watch out. His natural paranoia with the added bonus of focused suspicion should keep Orthorn from messing with the Arcanaeum._

_I could also try threatening Orthorn if he ignores Urag._

She forced herself to move again.

_But, that part of the quest only came up after the Eye was discovered. In order to keep things from going haywire, I need to make sure that no one messes with the Eye. **T**__**hat** means that I need to squeeze my way into that investigation group when the time comes - I won't be able to change anything if I'm not a part of the storyline._

She considered her options.

_I've already got my status as 'researcher of the Falmer' to get me to the ruins. The Night of Tears, which occurred in Saarthal, is one of the main topics of my research - I'd be surprised if they don't let me at least tag along._

She twisted her spoon in circles in the porridge.

_But still, I'd feel better if I could hedge my bets as much as possible. Arniel was looking into enchanted trinkets, right?_

Reorganizing the porridge a bit more, her eyes were unfocused as she stared into the bowl.

_I could add in some reading time for books on enchanting after dinner - it would cut into my spell-practicing time, but I could just stay up later. No problem there. It would definitely be worth it if, when the time comes, I can go to Saarthal and get paired with Arniel. _

Evelyn took a bite of cool porridge.

_I wonder if Urag will let me rent out some rings from the bucket? It can't hurt to look at the enchantments a little closer._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Life with the Companions was more than he could have ever hoped for. Here were men and women who could hold their own in any sort of fight. Here, the untrained became masters, and the masters became legends - there were whispers in Whiterun whenever Aela the Huntress or Skjor returned from their questing. Here, Rusvir knew with absolute certainty that he would become great.

None of the Companions ever looked at him in pity like the priestess of Kynareth. They didn't care that he could not remember his childhood, and they didn't care whenever he woke from nightmares of the flying death. The Companions were strong, and they expected strength from their ranks. He knew he was strong, and that he could be even stronger if he trained hard. He needed to be strong.

And so he had trained.

* * *

"So, whelp, you've made progress - Kodlak thinks you're ready for your first mission."

Vilkas pulled out a slip of paper. "A request from the court wizard. He wants someone to find a stone tablet in the barrow northwest of Riverwood." The man looked between himself and his brother. "Should be an easy job, especially with two full Companions around to make sure you don't do something stupid."

Farkas stood off to the side in silence, gear already packed and ready to travel.

Vilkas looked over Rusvir's dusty armor - dirty from sparring earlier that morning.

"Clean yourself up and gather your things. We leave before noon."

* * *

**2nd of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201, Morndas**

* * *

"Why did we let him out of the web again?"

"No idea, Farkas. He **did** help us find the traps, though, so maybe we should be thanking the fool." Vilkas stepped over a limp arm. "But, he also woke the draugr, so probably not." Vilkas burned away cobwebs with his torch as the group walked deeper into the hallway.

Rusvir was silent as he tagged along, hefting his battleaxe up whenever something moved. He was still recovering from the spider incident earlier.

They passed intricate carvings of figures and animals, and one particular wall caught Rusvir's eye. He took a moment to stare at the carving of a dragon. It didn't look like the one from his dreams. It was too small - not grand enough, not furious enough. He felt his hands grow clammy as he remembered. It didn't have red eyes. No fire...

"Whelp! You still have that claw, right?"

He shook himself and rejoined the brothers, holding up the golden dragon claw.

"Good. According to the fool's notes, I think we're about to need it - there's a door up ahead with an imprint in it. Looks like some sort of puzzle. I'll leave you to it, whelp." And with a grin, Vilkas found a wall to lean against and started cleaning his greatsword.

Rusvir walked up to the door and observed the claw. He tilted the claw under Vilkas' torch and grinned. "Found it." He walked to the door and started turning the rings. The two companions got up and stalked over to where he placed the claw. Rusvir turned the claw in the door.

The rock ground against itself as the door lowered into the ground.

"Already? I'm impressed, whelp."

Vilkas walked into the darkness, Rusvir not far behind him.

* * *

**13th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201, Fredas**

* * *

He was tired, filthy, and sore. But all he could think about was the strange wall that he had found in the final room. Even his pride at defeating that powerful draugr faded into nothing when he thought of the mysterious chanting.

It had to be related to the wall with the glowing markings. Farkas and Vilkas were confused when he told them about the glowing, and they hadn't been able to hear the voices either. It had to be the wall.

The chanting voices had called to him - shouted at him, even. But what they were saying, he did not know. And the worst part was that he felt like he **should** have known.

The situation was like his missing memories. In his more pleasant dreams, he could see murky outlines of faces and figures. Every time he saw them, he just** knew** that they had names - that they were important - but he couldn't remember why or how.

Rusvir remained silent as he and the two full companions walked up the steps to Dragonsreach.

* * *

"Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! You Companions might actually be a cut above the usual brutes and mercenaries." The wizard directed Rusvir to place the tablet on the desk while the nord inwardly fumed. The wizard was treating them like servants! Rusvir might have been rougher than necessary with the Dragonstone as he set it down, but at that point, he couldn't care less. It was a rock. A carved rock.

A carved rock that he had nearly died trying to find.

The wizard had hired the Companions to do the job because they were professionals - the best at what they did.

And now this wizard insulted the Companions under a thin layer of compliments, and then dared to boss them around like they were dogs.

Not looking much happier, Vilkas stepped forward, cutting into the silence. "So - the reward, court wizard?" Farkas just stood in the background, brooding.

The wizard frowned before waving them off.

"You'll have to see the Jarl about your reward - I must get back to my research." The wizard then delved into a long tirade about his research, babbling on and on about burials and blades and strange words. Rusvir couldn't understand most of what was coming out of his mouth. The only thing he did pick up on was the court wizard's disdain for 'brutes' such as himself.

Rusvir had to stop himself from strangling the man as he left the room, and, by the time all was said and done, the three left Dragonsreach with a healthy dislike of wizards.

* * *

**31st of Evening Star, 4E 201, Turdas**

* * *

Evelyn poked at the ring in front of her.

She had been staring at it for the better part of an hour, and it had yet to do anything interesting.

She couldn't feel the 'weave' of the enchantment, or any sort of 'charge' from the energy contained in the ring, but the book on enchantments claimed there would be something. So she sat and watched and waited - just like she had done every day since concocting her plan to prevent the Eye of Magnus fiasco. She had fallen asleep once or twice over the past few weeks thanks to her sleep deprivation, but as far as she knew, Urag hadn't seen.

Evelyn rolled the ring over in her hand.

It was utterly unremarkable - an iron band of metal with no runes, carvings, or identifying marks. The only trait separating it from normal rings was the slight glow that was visible whenever she put the ring in complete darkness.

_But I should be able to tell what kind of enchantment is on this one. It's the brightest of the bunch, so it should be the strongest._

She was interrupted by a loud snore from her right. Evelyn sighed and packed the ring up in her satchel.

_I've been looking at it for a while now - I should probably go to sleep instead of spell practice. Urag will definitely notice if I'm tardy._

* * *

**1st of Morning Star, 4E 202, Fredas**

* * *

She should have known that her period of peaceful research would end sooner or later.

"Novice! Come here."

_What's going on? _Evelyn left her supplies at her table and walked over to Urag.

"Yes, Master Librarian?"

"I have a task for you - It recently came to my attention that the Bard's College possesses a book - A first edition printing of the 'Wolf Queen, v6.'" _Is this a fetch quest? _

The bearded orsimer pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to her. "I'll need you to pick it up from Solitude once the winter weather passes."

_Yep. Definitely a fetch quest._

She read the note. _Solitude is rather far away... _"So I need to pick the book up from Viarmo?"

"Yes, I will give you the septims to purchase it. You just need to leave with Sergius Turrianus. He has enchanted weapons to drop off in the major holds, so it will not be too much of a detour for you to join him."

She thought back to her previous weeks sitting and walking around the Arcanaeum. It was large, but it was still only one room. It would be nice to get out and see Skyrim. _Additionally, I don't need to go solo - like my stressful road trip to Winterhold. _

"When will we leave?"

"Why are you asking me? Ask Sergius." The librarian grumbled. "But - let him know that I want that book in premium condition, and I want it before next Hearthfire. "


	17. A Series of Unexpected Events

**Chapter Seventeen: A Series of Unexpected Events**

* * *

A grizzled man sat behind a cairn, invisible in the whiteout that had just blown in. His bow lay on his lap while he checked his arrows. There were streamers tied to the handle – four red and three blue. A young, burly nord in rusted armor sat next to him, shuffling his feet in anticipation.

Both looked up when they heard a telltale whistle, just barely audible over the howling of the winds. "Sounds like we've got company." The older man packed his poisons up with a grim scowl and readied his bow.

He peeked over the rim and his eyes narrowed. "There they are… the scum. Looks like our friend's information was correct." He spat on the ground. "They should have stayed on their little milk-drinker island, and kept their prissy little noses out of Nord lands." The man grumbled obscenities under his breath. He double-checked all of his armor and weapons, making sure that they were secure and sharp, respectively.

The archer observed the coming travelers with a deepening frown.

"What's the matter, old man? You don't think we can take 'em?"

He scoffed. "Of course I think we can 'take them' – There are six of them, and nine of us." The warrior edged around the cairn. "We have surprise on our side - anyone can go down if you shoot them hard enough. " He gestured to his bow. "But, we should still be careful... Those aren't your typical new recruits - Justiciars aren't to be underestimated. Their shock spells are right nasty when you get in close."

"Why are we even going in close, then? Can't we just get 'em all in the initial ambush?"

The older man sighed. "Angrom needs the leader – supposedly whichever of those knife-ears is the mage. He doesn't care about the rest, though. Those are fair game." He checked the road again. "Quiet, they're almost at the spot. Don't move until you hear the signal."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Far above the road, just below an icy outcropping, she waited for her quarry to come. _Foolish elves. They never should have come here_.

She smirked to herself. Their loss, her gain. She breathed out slowly.

There was a short whistle. She set her sights on one of the figures in robes below. Another whistle.

She drew back her bowstring and aimed a moment before the last whistle blew_. _

_Now!_

She released her arrow and drew another in the space of a second. Time slowed down as she aimed again – she felt more alive whenever she hunted.

She released her second arrow just as one of the figures below dropped to the ground, clutching their chest. Then the mer who had turned around in shock fell as well. She smirked. _An arrow through the visor will do that to you… _She drew another arrow, but the group had brought their wards up already.

She pouted - she'd have to wait for one of them to drop their guard if she wanted another kill. Coming off of the adrenaline high, she watched as the brutes mopped up the rest of the elves.

The mages had mobilized quickly, but not before the axe-wielders moved in. She noted that another of the elven guards had been taken out in the initial ambush, three arrows sticking out of his torso. _The old man must be losing his touch - I got both of mine with one arrow each. _

She grinned when she saw the little Thalmor soldiers struggling to keep ranks. It was three of them against five brutes and they were only wizards. They were fighting like cowards – trying to back away while electrocuting those near them – they'd never win against the onslaught.

One of the brutes shattered a ward, opening a gap in the defense. That mage went down easily. _So weak._ The other two wards stayed up though, both remaining mages fighting back to back.

One of them managed to down a sword-wielder, and was proving difficult for the other fighters to reach. She watched as the mage disabled another warrior.

It seemed as though they were recovering from the initial shock_. _

_Unacceptable. _She drew back her bow and waited for a gap. The mage turned around to repel another axe-wielder, leaving their side unguarded. _You die next. _

At the last second, the thalmor turned around, bringing his ward with him. Her arrow bounced off the glowing barrier, failing to kill the annoying mage. The woman scowled - she had always hated wards and armor spells.

She drew another arrow, but wavered when she felt that something was off with the battle.

She'd never know whether it was instinct or luck that made her recheck the ambush site – but when she did, she saw that one of the corpses were missing.

_What? I thought I had killed -_

Her brief moment of shock was all it took.

The last thing Ulfdis ever saw was a figure in bloody gold-trimmed robes materializing in front of her, his hands crackling with electricity.

* * *

**29th of Morning Star, 4E 202, Fredas**

* * *

Evelyn laid back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. A lazy glance to her side showed that her bag was, as it had been three days earlier, still neatly packed and ready for travel. She huffed out an annoyed breath.

_Wonderful. The one time I actually **want** to go to sleep early is also the one night where I don't feel the slightest bit tired._

She returned to watching the ceiling. _Maybe it's already the 30th? -Just really early in the morning? _

_Ugh, I need to sleep or I'll risk being late..._

Her eyes narrowed. _Hmm. I could try casting for a little while - it'll at least wear my mind out. - __I can try the juggling trick I've been working on. If that doesn't get me tired, then I don't know what will._

A light sprung into existence in her hand, which she flicked up into the air. It drifted slowly, settling into a slow orbit around her head. After a moment of concentration, she conjured up another one, tossing it up to create a little parade of sorts. She could feel her magicka plummeting. She started focusing on a third.

Her energy was draining quickly with the combined force of two - soon to be three - candlelight spells, but she didn't dispel any until her mind began to haze over.

_Almost got to three that time... _She closed her eyes and waited.

But, sleep didn't come - she was just as awake as she had been ten minutes ago. With a scowl, Evelyn opened her eyes and glared at the stonework above her. She counted the tiles.

An unknown amount of time later, she was still awake.

With a sigh, she sat up and pulled a book off her side table._ If going to be awake, I may as well be productive._

* * *

**30th of Morning Star, 4E 202, Loredas**

* * *

Upon entering the small stables, Evelyn was surprised to see that Sergius had four horses saddled for the day. _There's only two of us going, right?_

She shuffled over in a half-asleep daze.

"Ah, you must be Urag's helper. We are waiting for Faralda and Nirya to arrive." He pulled out one of the reins.

It took her a slow few seconds to register what he had said before her eyes widened. _Those two?_

"Faralda and Nirya are coming as well?" _Oops. Probably should have kept my 'novice' wonderings to myself. _"...Sir?"

Sergius paused in his rein organization. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly - it seemed that he wasn't very comfortable with the idea either.

"We recently received word that a rogue College wizard has been causing trouble in the west. They volunteered to take care of the problem." He handed her the reigns of the smallest of the four horses.

_One rogue wizard versus the destruction master and two other trained college mages - I think we'll survive the rogue mage. But, will we survive traveling with each other?_

She thought back to Nirya's hostility toward Faralda. _Did they know that they were both coming along?... _

Evelyn inwardly shuddered. _I hope so. Nirya might amp up her rivalry if she suddenly realizes that she'll be traveling for a few weeks with Faralda._

Her discomfort must have shown, because Sergius cut in to assure her. "Don't worry, Urag was very insistent that you are traveling to pick up and deliver his book, not fight. You'll be watching the camp while we clear out the rogue mage. Also, It would be best to get this out of the way now - my name is Sergius. Not 'sir,' or 'Turrianus,' or 'Master Enchanter.' Just Sergius. If you must be formal, use 'Sergius Turrianus.' I'm not as old as I look." Evelyn nodded, watching as two figures walked into the stables.

Both altmer women approached, neither speaking to or acknowledging the presence of the other. Nirya greeted Sergius stiffly, while Faralda casually mounted her horse. Evelyn looked at her own horse as the three mages discussed the travel plans. She managed to pull herself into the saddle after subtly watching the others mount up. _And I only almost fell once! _With a small grin, she straightened on the horse's back.

_Now, to figure out how to pilot this thing..._

Luckily for her, Nirya and Faralda were far too concerned with getting news of their travel schedule from Sergius to see her awkward self struggle through the basics of 'go forward' and 'stop' for horseback riding. Within the hour they were on the road, riding west out of Winterhold proper.

* * *

The horses had been annoyed at needing to leave the safety of enclosed walls, but they were stocky, so Evelyn held little pity for them. With thick coats, She wasn't worried about their legs freezing off.

**Her** legs, on the other hand, she **was** worried about.

She was worried about her lungs, too - the cold air made it feel like her throat was on fire every time she breathed in.

_Frostbite is no joke in Skyrim._

Evelyn spared a moment to drop to the back and cast a warming spell, sighing in relief as breathing grew to sting less than before.

She looked ahead past the others to see the snowy trail they would travel on. It was only identifiable as a path because of its flatness relative to the mountains on the left and seaside cliffs to the right. It would be their path through the endless fields of snow and icy crags called northern Skyrim.

* * *

**5th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Fredas**

* * *

"We will set up camp here for the night!" Sergius yelled over the wind. "Just behind this ledge - it looks sheltered enough!"

They pulled the horses up underneath the outcropping of jagged rock and dismounted, trading frigid winds for frigid stillness. Evelyn winced at the saddle soreness that hadn't fully gone away and tied the horses together. She pulled some hay out from the saddlebags for their dinners. Horse watching was her main job - not counting the self-appointed goal of ingredient collection. After the horses were set up for the night, she sat herself down near the recently ignited magical fire and opened her carrying sack.

_Not nearly as many snowberries as I was hoping to get, but I did collect quite a few grass pods and mountain flowers. Spring is a good time for flower-hunting, after all. _

_...Should I sort by color, by known effects, or alphabetically?_

She absentmindedly reorganized her pack as Sergius distributed the soup.

Holding a steaming bowl, he turned to the elves. "Nirya, how is the clairvoyance spell?"

"We are close. Very close." The altmer took a moment to squint in the distance. "I would say we are within a day's travel of the rogue mage's hideaway."

"Good, we'll set up camp once we find it, and then arrest the fellow."

Faralda, silent up until then, added her own bit of advice. "We must be wary. If this is the man that I think it is, he will be very dangerous. He was one of Phinis' best pupils and an incredibly talented necromancer."

"I am certain that we will be able to handle ourselves in this 'rogue mage' business - what I am worried about is whether or not you can keep up."

Sergius all but groaned out loud, resigning himself to another one-sided round of 'who is the best mage.'

Evelyn watched them all from beneath her hood, smiling. It was nice to travel with people. If there were enough people, then you could listen in on the banter without worrying about needing to speak yourself. Evelyn grinned a little wider. It was also entertaining to try and figure out what wasn't being said.

_Neither of the altmer backed out of this mission - so it's either a matter of pride, or something else. I remember reading somewhere that there was a planned love triangle between those three that got cut out at the last second. Looks like it might have an element of truth to it. _

_Also - It is interesting that no one has mentioned bringing Colette along even once - the master restoration mage, who could make all of the undead necromancer minions run away. Makes you wonder if she's really that annoying._

She shook her head softly and ate her warm soup.

_I'm **so** glad that Sergius knows how to cook._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Hirmund walked into the ruins with heavy steps, the few arrows in his hand stained with dried blood. He solemnly watched as those that had fallen were carried away. Fingering his necklace, he looked to the sky.

_May their souls rest in Sovngarde._

A man in heavy armor stepped out to greet them. _Angrom Winter-Beard._ The heavily scarred man wore the pelt of an ice bear on his back. The fur was almost as thick as his namesake grey beard. "What happened, men?... Report!"

Slowly, Hirmund removed his helmet. "We got two of them, and killed the rest… But…" He pulled at a blue streamer hanging from his bow. "We lost Ulfdis, Sorgrim, Haklar… all but two of our fighters."

The other man nodded for him to continue. "Both prisoners have been secured, and we used those potions from the mages to keep them manageable." Hirmund waved the boy – Snokr – over. He carried the prisoners over. One elf was completely unconscious, and slumped to the ground when Snokr dragged him up. The other was bloody but still awake, glaring at the men from his position on the ground.

Angrom looked over to the elves. "Why did we take that one? Looks like he'll die soon."

"Probably will – he got shot by one of Ulfdis' arrows…" As if to prove a point, the elf coughed raggedly, his wound dripping onto the floor. Hirmund considered. "Don't know why he hasn't keeled over yet, but we had to grab him just in case the other doesn't wake up - we may have fed him a bit too much of that potion we got."

Angrom nodded along. "May as well keep him for now. If he doesn't talk within a reasonable amount of time, kill him."

"Are you sure they are high ranking enough to know?"

"I'm certain - they probably feed their propaganda to every last one of their little brats. So long as we didn't just get the dregs of the elf-"

The mer shifted with a muffled gasp. He had apparently recovered his breath from the earlier coughing fit. "Do speak of me as if I am not here! I am a member of the Thalmor!" He sneered but his arms were shaking as they held him upright.

"The Aldmeri Dominion will hear of this –"

The elf's words cut off with a grunt as he keeled over to the floor – courtesy of a swift blow from a club. The youngest man of the three glared downward, fist clenched around the handle.

"You talk too much."

Angrom moved around the fallen elves, hands raised in appeasement. "Snokr, we don't want to kill him too quickly – we still need information." He laid a hand on the furious man's shoulder. "Do not make your brother's sacrifice be for nothing."

The younger nord clenched his fists, but moved his weapon away from the elf's midsection. He spat on the bloodied robes.

"When you're finished with 'em, let me do the honors for that one. He killed Haklar." With one last dark look, he stormed out of the room.

The massive scar on Angrom's face made it hard to tell what mood he was in, but his eyes were wild when he turned to Hirmund. He breathed out heavily, staring Hirmund in the eye. "They **will** pay for their crimes – I'll make sure of it." He glared down at the elves. "When we get them to tell the truth, then we can prove to Ulfric our worth – show him that we were right all along."

Hirmund looked over his old friend. He trusted him, but the recent events... Hirmund stared wordlessly as Angrom picked up an elf in each arm and dragged them to the wall with makeshift shackles. "We just need to keep them alive long enough to get the truth..."

Hirmund left the room soon after, every step dragging more than the last. He was weighed down by memories.

In the next room over, he sat down.

He pulled out three streamers – one red and two blue. His thoughts were filled with the sight of a dead elf, pierced by many arrows, and two young men – even in death, each was gripping their weapons: one a greataxe and the other a longsword. He tied the streamers to his bow.

Five red. Five blue.

_My sons, forgive me._


	18. Collecting

**Chapter Eighteen: Collecting**

* * *

**6th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Loredas**

* * *

The other mages had left for the rogue necromancer's lair a few hours prior, leaving her alone with only the horses for company.

Packing up camp was certainly time-consuming, but not the most mentally stimulating.

Hence why she had forgone all pretense of making progress in order to sit on a rock and glare at a potato. And wave her hands around.

_Did Urag flick his wrist towards the object or toward himself... could there be something else that I'm forgetting?_

Huffing to herself, she closed her eyes and used clairvoyance. _My magic is working and the potato is still right in front of me. Now why can't I just get it to move even a tiny bit?_

She couldn't remember how he cast the spell and didn't think that any of her traveling companions would be able to teach her, but that was only a small problem in the larger scale of things. She could always take detailed notes when she got back to Winterhold.

There were larger problems in the world of Tamriel.

Like how little she actually knew about Skyrim. She had lost count of the times where she was surprised by events - even the ones she had solid information on.

_I got stuck in Whiterun with a caravan quarantine, Tolfdir tested me at the gates, I don't recognize any of the apprentices at the College, and even when Sergius and Urag told me the details of **this** trip, Faralda and Nirya decided to tag along without any sort of warning!_

_How can I help if nothing goes according to plan?_

_How can I fix things if I'm not even sure they're going to go wrong in the first place?_

She paused in her concentration.

_This line of thought isn't going anywhere._

_I need something else to do - something more interesting. This empty time just gives me more time to freak out over things that I can't change._

Blinking, she massaged her temples.

_If Sergius and co. could return from their arrest job soon, that would be great. How long ago did they leave again?_

She thought backward. _At dawn._ She looked up and the sun hung overhead, it was sometime around noon.

_It has been quite a while... __Surely arresting a single rogue mage wouldn't take this long. Did they run into trouble? Was the mage's hiding spot farther than expected?_

_Was the mage harder to defeat than expected?_

Her thoughts drifted to difficult mage fights - the Azura's star quest, the fight with Zahkriisos, and Ancano after the player gets the Staff of Magnus. They were all related to forbidden knowledge or magical secrets in some way. Tainting a Daedric artifact, dealing with Hermaeus Mora, and magic related very closely with Magnus or Aetherius itself.

_Could the rogue mage be more powerful than we thought because they have knowledge of unknown magic?_

_It might be that the hideout is a long walk away, but what if the rogue mage discovered something? Or knows something interesting?_

_Hmm... What if the rogue mage kept their knowledge written in a notebook? Or got it from books? And what if they are books that Urag doesn't have in his collection yet?_

_The mage will have books anyway, right? They're a mage._

_Even if they didn't keep notes, there could still be books that Urag doesn't have, or even copies in good condition that I could start amassing!_

She drew circles in the snow with her foot absentmindedly.

_They won't need their books if they get arrested, will they?_

Evelyn paused and reviewed that last thought.

She dropped her head into her hands, staring blankly at the ground.

_I'm a terrible person. _

_That would be stealing._

It was time to force a change of subject - away from thievery.

_Don't think about books. Don't think about all the books that could be free to read._

She sat in silence.

_Don't think about them._

She sat still.

_Stealing is bad, even if it's from crazy people._

_..._

_But what if the rogue mage stole the books first? _

_..._

_Plus, this is Skyrim - the land of 'loot everything in sight.' Maybe it wouldn't be bad to confiscate them under the possibility that they were stolen?_

Her stomach twisted in knots. _No. That is still stealing._

_..._

_Or maybe - I could just buy some paper and ink, and take notes on the most relevant or interesting books? _

_Then I could give the books back when I finish? I should be able to pay the rogue mage for the paper and ink with my current funds._

She waited for inner resistance but found none.

_My conscience has been appeased - the path is set!_

She grinned and returned to her staring and hand-waving.

* * *

As before, the only thing the next half hour brought was annoyance. _If looks could kill, that potato would be dead ten times over by now. _

She huffed out a weary breath.

_This is going nowhere, and I should probably finish packing... _She picked the potato up - and then frowned down at it in her hand.

_But, I think I'll pack this up last._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"This is more than a simple 'rogue mage' problem-" Nirya cast a ward, ducking down even as the glowing barrier deflected the arrow. The altmer frowned. "More skeletons. Lovely." A brief flash of intense heat later and the bones were burned to ash, Faralda sneaking forward.

Nirya took up her position near the front. "Did Korir know that this would be more of a job for a small army?"

Faralda grinned from behind. "I believe that is why we came along."

The group of mages investigated the hallway for hidden enemies before continuing. The silence was only broken by muffled cursing as the mages realized that the snow that had melted during their attack was refreezing into a slick layer of ice.

They all grew silent upon reaching the next room, however.

Heads and bodies on spikes decorated the room. And the necromancers inside were on their guard.

Nirya scrunched her nose up in disgust and cast stoneflesh on each of them. "Why must rogue necromancers be so disgusting?" She brought up her wards while Faralda targeted the necromancers occupying the room. Sergius brought up the rear, readying his staff and dropping into a fighting stance.

* * *

"You don't think that Urag will want any of these books, do you?" Sergius nodded toward a bookshelf in the corner of the main room.

Nirya scoffed. "The librarian isn't here. Only the novice - and I don't think she'll want to venture deep into this cave just for some singed paper."

Faralda stood to the side, investigating the desk and lockbox.

Sergius shuffled in place. "I'm not sure..." He trailed off into silence.

He looked between the massive bookcase and their own bedraggled appearance. Their robes were hanging stiffly with ice in places, their boots were soaking wet with frigid water and who knows what else, and a layer of soot coated everything. They were a mess, and there were at least ten times as many books in the room as they could carry comfortably. It would take multiple trips to bring all the books with them.

In the end, Sergius was the first to move away.

"On second thought, I think that we should wait for the novice. She likely knows which ones that Urag would want."

Nirya gestured to the bookshelf. "That's if she even wants them. Or knows about them."

"If she doesn't ask, then I won't tell her." Sergius cast a warming spell on himself. "But if she does ask, then I volunteer you to be the one to make sure she doesn't die of foolishness."

Nirya grinned. "She won't ask."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Sergius was the one to retrieve her from their old camp. He looked like he had been thrown into a campfire, but Evelyn restrained herself from bothering him about it. Experience held that asking someone about such things was unwise.

He led her on a relatively short hike up to the side of a cliff, where a crevasse led into shadows. The stone walls on either side kept the wind out, but they also blocked any light from reaching the ground. As a result, the air was uniformly frigid.

She shivered when she saw the rusty brown patches of snow near the entrance.

Undeterred, Sergius led on, not breaking a stride as he passed various unidentified bones. She, for the most part, stuck as close as was reasonable to the master enchanter, watching his back or her footing below more than her surroundings. It was best not to look too closely at the unnatural decorations of the ravine.

"Bring the horses over here."

He pulled the reins of his horse downward into the cave. She followed.

"Watch your step - it's a little steep here."

_Noted._

* * *

Neither Faralda nor Nirya made any appearance while Evelyn helped unpack and set up camp. And, soon after the unpacking was finished, Sergius walked deeper into the cave - leaving her alone again. So she sat on a rock and stewed. Every once in a while she'd conjure a candlelight to mess with, poking it this way and that, or testing whether or not physics applied to it.

A short time after her third magelight juggling attempt, she heard footsteps approaching.

Sergius entered and pulled out his cooking pan.

"I didn't ask before, but did you catch the rogue mage?"

"Not exactly. But he won't be troubling travelers anymore. Neither will his necromancer cult."

_I can't say that I'm surprised - after passing all of those skeletons on the way in here, I was guessing either vampires or necromancers._

_I don't see any prisoners... They must have killed the necromancers._

She was torn between being grateful that she wouldn't have to worry about a prisoner escape in the middle of the night, and feeling uneasy at the thought of all the dead bodies that must be in the cave system. _The necromancers would have killed people if they were left on their own. Necromancers like these - _she looked at the cages - _are bad. __It's a good thing that they're gone._

_...But they're dead. _

Her stomach twisted.

She'd never had to deal with dead bodies before. Or death, really. Cancer was a misty remembrance of her grandparents, and crimes were what was on the news. Too long ago and too far away to truly affect her life.

Evelyn was at a loss as to what to feel about there being an unknown number of non-skeletal dead bodies in the cave with her.

She sat silently as Sergius added vegetables to the stew. What was done was done, and she'd have to deal with it. She was still alive because she adapted - she'd need to adapt to make the best of this situation.

Evelyn sighed. Her mental motivational speech wasn't helping.

_I could try viewing it like I would in the game? Walk quickly and ignore? Or I could at least try to fake it until I make it?_

She furrowed her brow in concentration, musing over all the options. _I could at least **try** to use this situation to my advantage..._

A new thought broke through - and it would not be ignored.

Evelyn inwardly winced even as her mind started running wild. _They won't need them anymore, so why not?_

It was final - Urag was rubbing off on her.

She reluctantly looked over to Sergius.

"Were there any books?"

* * *

Evelyn still had no idea why Sergius had laughed at her question.

Or why Nirya was grumpier than usual.

_Maybe I'm better off not knowing?_

She shook her head and pulled another book off the shelf.

Bad condition - singed on the corners and showing signs of water damage. But the title - "Mysticism - Unfathomable Voyage" caught her eye.

_It sounds interesting and it's salvageable. _She added it to the pile of badly-preserved-yet-still-legible books and moved on to the next tome on the shelf.

"You do realize that there are far more books in the next several rooms than here, yes?"

Nirya shifted on her feet. "It's been at least two hours - it will soon be time to rest for the night... I don't want to be kept up any later than necessary."

_Has it really been two hours?_

_I've only gotten through three shelves!_

She looked frantically between her rickety cart of books and the nearby bookshelves. There was another shelf to empty in the current room.

_There are more rooms? There's not enough time!_

Evelyn looked at the book in her hand - the title was too faded to make out but she couldn't leave it behind.

_This could be something interesting - I can't leave it behind._

_But, the books in the other rooms might be important or interesting as well!_

She looked at the newly-emptied bookshelves. The only things left on them were broken silverware, dust and cobwebs, and a few morbid-looking trinkets. She had taken the time to analyze every item for magical auras just in case any were something the College would want to investigate more closely. Each book had been carefully sorted into one of four stacks, organized according to how delicate each was.

Over the course of two hours, she had worked through two of the three shelves. It was a respectable pace, but not optimized for quick retrieval.

She looked at her cart of books.

_I haven't left anything behind yet._

_At this rate, I could just grab everything and sort later._

She placed the mysterious book onto the cart and stood abruptly. The last bookcase in the room needed to be emptied and she needed to hurry.

_Ok. Very damaged books to the 'very damaged' stack, delicates into the delicates section, good condition books to the 'good condition' stack, and trinkets into that satchel over there. I might need to grab another sack for other items of interest, but finding another bag can wait until I actually need another one._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

It wasn't the narrow, icy passageway with bones sticking out that slowed the novice, but the section of the cave that was wide-open and flat. The room with the unfortunate victims of the necromancer cult.

Nirya could agree that the room smelled terrible with all of the charred corpses, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been earlier - when she had first fought the necromancers.

She had watched as the girl entered the room. The novice had taken one look at the corpses on spikes and gagged. After a minute of tortured silence, she had walked - rather calmly, Nirya had to admit - over to the corner with the bookshelves. Where she spent the entirety of her time in the room facing nothing but the books. No glances to her side, where an ash pile lay, or anywhere else.

Nirya walked over to the girl. Books were piling onto her cart more quickly than the first room and the girl was tellingly pale.

Nirya filed it away for future reference - the new novice was not used to necromancy or the dead. _She isn't likely to be a spy from the College of Whispers. Those secret-keepers deal with dead bodies on a regular basis._

_She could be affiliated with the Synod... _

_Though that is very unlikely - a spy is typically chosen for their ability to conceal. The girl is obviously uncomfortable._

_Not a likely infiltrator. Just a book hoarder._

She watched as the girl dropped shards of a soul gem into a sack.

_Or an obsessive collector. Those are useless._

Nirya frowned and gazed around the clearing. She picked at her fingernails.

_At least this is the worst of the rooms, the last one only has a single bookcase. Once we're past that, it should be quick._

* * *

When they returned, the girl immediately went to the entrance of the cave, leaving Nirya with her fellow mages. Sergius was the first to speak.

"Did something happen in the caves? We didn't miss a skeleton, did we?"

"No - the girl simply tried to pick up every. Last. **Little. Thing**. From broken soul gems to a flute, of all things!"

Sergius glanced over at the densely packed cart.

"Does she realize that we can't drag that slow thing behind us? ...Does she think she can carry it all to Solitude? "

Nirya shrugged and sat down by the fire. "Why are you asking me?!"

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"I found something in his notes - he was working with a 'Winter-Beard' of some sort - probably a bandit chief. There was an exchange of supplies."

He looked up from the fire. "What?"

"Weekly deliveries of potions in return for protection and any corpses they might find - or create."

Faralda handed him a note, written in sloppy scrawl. He scanned the contents before turning back to the high elf.

"Do you think that this 'Winter-Beard' supplied them with all the poor fellows in here?"

"I'm not sure, but there is documentation for a delivery that set out a few days ago."

Sergius groaned. "So there is another necromancer still running about. Wonderful! If we let them go free, then Korir will think that we broke our word!"

Nirya drawled from her spot near the campfire.

"I suppose that means that we aren't finished yet, then."


	19. Bad Decisions

**Chapter Nineteen: Bad Decisions**

* * *

Evelyn wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not.

Through yet another change of plans, Faralda and Nirya would be dragging her and Sergius off on a detour. The last of the necromancers still needed to be taken care of, apparently, and they needed to leave quickly.

It would delay their arrival in Solitude by at least two weeks, cutting short any free time she might have gotten to explore the cities. _And, if my previous luck with travel is any indication, a freak accident or something will end up delaying us even further. I should probably get used to being rushed._

She stuffed the last trinket into her satchel, and then moved to inspect the sacks that she'd commandeered. They were the precious cargo - books.

She looked at her horse - a big and stocky, the mare had been carrying cooking supplies and the bedrolls for the past week. She was glad that Skyrim horses were strong and hardy. _Make that packing list '**books** and bedrolls' as of today._

Rations had been packed in equal proportions among all the horses, but with the food being eaten nightly, all it had taken to make room for the books was redistributing the supplies. Pack all the rations onto other horses and disperse the pots and pans, making sure none of the horses had to carry more weight than had at the beginning of the trip. Then, add the books.

A good deal of the time spent packing went to making sure that the mare was comfortable. Each sack was counterbalanced on the other side so the weight wasn't lopsided, and the bedrolls were used as cushioning. The horse wouldn't feel chafing from book edges, and the books would have some added protection from bouncing. _A win-win situation._

She double checked the saddle and all the straps. The girth needed to be tightened a little bit before she was confident that she wouldn't keel to the side later on, but the ties for each sack were secure, and she had extra furs on hand for waterproofing if needed. She tightened the girth. After finishing everything to her satisfaction, Evelyn gazed back toward the cave.

Even with all of the planning, she had to leave behind some of the books. There were just too many to justify making her horse carry. _Skyrim horses are sturdy, but I don't feel like trying to test the limits._

She had made sure that those left behind were the books least likely to be useful - either impossible to read, or ones that she knew for a fact were already in the Arcanaeum. They were sealed in a chest to keep the elements out, then placed in a dry location in the cave for safekeeping.

_Just because I can't bring them now doesn't mean I can't grab them later. _

Evelyn turned away from the cave entrance and mounted up, ready to go. The group departed shortly afterward, Nirya in the lead as she cast Clairvoyance.

* * *

**13th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Loredas**

* * *

It was the day that the mages would take care of the last necromancer, so she was stuck at camp again.

Traveling had been difficult, especially since they were effectively traveling cross-country, but they had managed. Evelyn had been pleased to see that her mare hadn't struggled carrying the books to their most recent camp. She would have hated to leave any book in the wilderness, let alone ones that she had braved a necromancer lair to retrieve.

Not that she had to deal with the necromancers while they were alive, but she could honestly say that if there was another room like **that** one in her future, she was going to be avoiding it. She would be better off not knowing if there were books in the room. _Sometimes ignorance is bliss._

She nibbled on her apple and cast candlelight. _Or would not-knowing be worse because then **any** room could theoretically have books in it?_

The ball of light bobbed around her head. She poked at it with half-lidded eyes.

_I'd have to check each-_

There was a low rumble - faint, but audible. She clumb to the edge of the crevasse and faced the direction of the bandit camp. Another rumble - this time, it was louder. If she squinted, she could see a dark patch in the sky. _Smoke._

_They've only been gone for two hours - there shouldn't have been any fighting yet. What happened?_

All three had been confident that they could catch the rogue necromancer without alerting the bandits.

Evelyn twiddled her thumbs and tried to be still, squinting toward the barely-visible ruins that marked the bandit camp. Another explosion and she clenched her hands into fists. She was almost certain that she saw a burst of light that time.

An explosion that loud, this early, was not in the schedule for the day. The only explanation was that something else – something unexpected – had happened. The next few minutes were silent as the smoke rose.

_Did their plans change? _

_Did they win?_

_Or is the fight still going?_

She made to stand up. _Would it hurt to get a closer look?_

The wind picked up.

_Yes, it would. Or at least it could._

_I should stay here. Like Sergius asked._

Wringing her hands, she sat back down.

_...But why should I always have to just sit at camp?_

_What if they are in trouble?_

_Will it even take long for me to check the area out? I could get back quickly if something is dangerous..._

She shook her head.

_No._

_It would be dangerous._

_..._

She shifted in place uncomfortably.

_But -_

* * *

In the end, the novice librarian was only able to deny her curiosity for a few minutes.

Evelyn was well aware that she would probably regret her most recent decision, but doing nothing but sitting around and watching the horses for weeks on end had taken its toll on her. She stood up.

She was feeling stir-crazy and wanted to go and do something for a change - even if that something was a pointless walk. She wouldn't go close, and at the first sign of hostile activity, she'd hightail it back to the crevasse.

It would get her away from the smell of hay for some time, at least. And, it could serve as practice for her future plans for the Eye.

She double-checked that everything was packed nicely, made sure that the horses were calm, and then set off.

* * *

**Later that day**

* * *

Evelyn slunk through the snow, ducking low to the ground when she saw the first hints of a structure. It was a few miles away and obscured by lightly falling snow, but she could see that something inside was still on fire. Smoke drifted out of the leeward side. The pathway up to the bandit camp looked scorched and frozen in equal measure. She flattened herself into the snow. There had been a mage battle there.

_I thought that Faralda and Nirya wanted to sneak inside?_

_The necromancer should have been surprised - so w__hy are there signs of a battle? And where is everyone?_

The sun rose to full height as she snuck even closer, making a wide arc around the ruins. There were no signs of life - only smoke, snow, and crumbling stone. Clenching her jaw shut, she moved on, straining her eyes to see if she could find Faralda, Nirya, or Sergius.

They were nowhere to be found.

Evelyn crouched down. _It's past noon, and I need to get back to camp. They'll go back to camp when they're finished. __Plus, it's not as if I can do much more than hide and stay out of the way at this point in time. _

Aborting her investigation, she backed up as stealthily as possible. Soon, she was following her old footprints back to camp, looking anywhere but at the burning ruins. _They can take care of themselves. They'll be fine..._

_Right?_

She plodded on as the sun sank lower and the winds picked up. Evening was coming. Evelyn sped up.

* * *

On her way back, she almost missed the footprints crossing her tracks.

Eyes widening, she compared foot sizes.

_Too big. These aren't mine._

She could hear her heartbeat as she mentally traced the tracks. _But whose are these? _She squinted over the snow. _Sergius would be heading back to camp, not that way._

They led to empty ice fields and a small smudge of rock near the edge of her vision. No one was nearby, although she could have sworn there was **something** farther down. _Possibly next to that rock? _

_Could it be one of the College mages? Did they get lost?_

She shook herself and returned to her path, casting a warming spell as she went. _I should get back to camp now. I don't know who they are or if they're friendly or hostile._

* * *

Evelyn stood still in the wind, staring at the ground.

She had found another set of tracks.

This time, they mirrored her own. _I won't be able to avoid these. They're leading toward the camp. _She tilted her head and then relaxed. _It's probably Sergius, Faralda or Nirya. No need to worry._

_They will probably be annoyed that I left camp, though._

She gazed in the direction of their camp. _But, it could also be a bandit – I think that I'll stay stealthy. Just in case._

Keeping low to the ground, she only spared a moment to defrost her fingers with magic before continuing. She scaled a ridge, noting that the footprints changed as they went farther from the bandit camp ruins - they were growing sloppier and sloppier.

Her stomach knotted.

_Whoever this is is in trouble. Did one of them get hurt? I can't see any blood..._

At the top of the next ridgeline, she made the executive call to just barely peek her head over the edge. The last thing she needed was to alert an archer bandit of her presence.

There was no one there. Releasing her breath, she pulled herself up and continued tracking the footprints. They were right next to her old ones, so following them should get her back to camp and the horses.

_Wait. _Her eyes widened.

_The horses! If the person making these tracks isn't one of the College mages, they might steal the horses if they find them!_

Her stomach dropped and her pulse quickened. _That was my **one** job!_

Emboldened by fear, she ran. _Bad idea! This hike was a **bad idea**! I'll stay at camp next time if only the horses and supplies are fine!... _Her eyes widened even further.

_The books are there, too!_

She scrambled alongside the footprints.

* * *

Evelyn was well-winded when she came across the culprit. It had started snowing and visibility was impaired, but she could see someone crouching in the snow ahead. _It doesn't look like Sergius. Maybe Faralda or Nirya? _

She took deep breaths to calm herself down from the adrenaline high. _No one is taking the horses... I'm fine. It's going to be fine. I found the person before they got to the camp._

_Why have they stopped? _Evelyn squinted into the blowing snow. _Wait a second, the robes are all wrong. They **are** familiar, though._

_Should I try sneaking around? Have they seen me? _She stopped and dropped into a crouch as well, still observing the figure. She edged closer.

Initially, all she could see was a person-shaped dark patch in the snow, but as the falling snow cleared briefly, they came into focus.

Her eyes widened - the person wasn't crouching down, they were collapsed on the ground. They definitely weren't a bandit, either. No swords or weapons, only the vaguely familiar tattered robes. _They're just lying there in the snow! _

She shuffled to the person and stared, caution forgotten. _Are they alive? Please let them still be alive. Wait - what do I do if they are alive?! What if they're the necromancer? _She wrung her hands and looked more closely. _But what if they aren't?_

There was no shivering that she could see, but the person shifted lethargically when she got nearer. Their - his - face was still facing away from her. It was an altmer.

He hadn't seen her yet, but she'd seen him.

She froze. _Fudge fudge fudge… What do I do?! _She reached out to poke him on the shoulder.

And thought better of her plan when he rolled over to glare at her. The robes were tattered, but she could see a striking resemblance to Ancano's wardrobe. Buckles and gold trim. _Thalmor. _She looked at the collapsed mer. _I guess that it's good that he isn't the necromancer, but what is a thalmor doing out here?_

The elf looked terrible - his eyes were unfocused and he couldn't quite muster the strength to push himself up. He fell back into the snow and shifted. For some reason, he was trying to pull off his hood - which was already shredded in places.

_I don't know how to deal with this._

She stood up and turned back to camp. But she couldn't get farther than the second step away.

_Could I leave him here? And still sleep at night? _Her legs weren't moving.

She looked backward. He had given up on removing the hood but was in the process of... _Is he trying to swim? _She turned around and walked back to the fallen mer. She took a deep breath and moved closer.

Nothing happened.

The thalmor remained silent and returned to trying to stand up. All he accomplished was shifting the snow a bit and nearly falling over. _He's definitely not getting up on his own._

She frowned.

_I can't **leave **him here._

Thalmor or not, she couldn't stomach leaving someone to die.

At a loss for what to do, she waved her hand in his field of view, waiting until he moved his head toward her. "Hello? Are you-" _alright?_ _Well that's a stupid question – he's not alright. What about…_ "In need of assistance?" _Great. That's still like asking if the sauna is hot._

The thalmor only furrowed his brows in suspicion. His eyes still wouldn't focus on her, but he glared in her general direction nonetheless. She moved to the side but he didn't change his position. She grimaced. _He hasn't realized that he's staring at empty space yet._

"For the record, I'm going to take your lack of response as a cue to help."

He didn't fight her when she shuffled closer, and didn't say anything insulting about humans. The lack of response was worrisome. _I feel like he should be doing something, at least. Is this a sign of hypothermia?_

After attempting to lift him to his feet with little result - there's only so much you can do to make a limp sack of potatoes stand upright - Evelyn realized that the only way she was going to get the elf up was with magic. She waved a finger in front of the mer. He didn't react. _He's essentially unconscious, so this should work... _She took a deep breath. _I need to focus._

After a long moment, Evelyn exhaled in relief. Her hands lit up, glowing with warm light.

Quickly, before she ran out of magicka, she grabbed the elf by the shoulders. _This should link him to my spell. Time to really test Tolfdir's creation._

While she felt her own body warm up, the spell felt much weaker than usual - likely because it was split between two people. The elf started shivering, but it quieted down again a short time afterward.

_I can feel him warming up! Thank goodness!_

She lifted her hands gradually as her magicka drained away.

* * *

When the spell finally stuttered out, Evelyn observed her new acquaintance. All of her magicka had hidden, so either the thalmor was awake, or someone was coming. Thankfully, it was just the thalmor.

She looked at the elf, frowning. …_I didn't think I'd ever say that._

Evelyn's eyes widened in realization before she dropped her head into her hands.

_I'm invested now. Wonderful._ She could hear the sarcasm in her thoughts. _Sergius is going to absolutely love having an awkward thalmor along for the ride._

She looked up when the elf finally moved. He groaned and rolled over, still oblivious to her presence. He hadn't seen her kneeling next to him yet, but that would probably change soon.

_May as well get it over with – rip off the Band-Aid, if you will._ She took a reluctant breath.

"Hello there?"

* * *

The elf's eyes widened, and he twisted around in an effort to get away. Electricity danced in one hand.

"Wait! I'm not dangerous!" Evelyn held her hands out in what she hoped was an appeasing gesture. Eyes narrowed, the elf kept his spell ready but didn't attack. Then, the sparks on his fingertips stuttered before disappearing.

"Um… Are you alright?" She tried her best to be as unthreatening as possible. "Sergius and some other mages and I came to arrest a necromancer in those ruins back there," she waved a hand in the direction of the bandit camp. "But I haven't-"_ 'found them yet?' _"seen the necromancer yet. Or the bandits that apparently lived in there." _Advice from your brain on how to stay alive: don't tell the thalmor that you're effectively home alone. _

"You aren't allied with the bandits or necromancer, are you?" He was still quiet – too quiet. _What **was** he doing way out here following my path?_

"Also - why were you following my tracks?"

She glanced over to see that, while he wasn't asleep yet, the elf was very close to falling over. And he was starting to shiver again. She frowned. _I **just** fixed that. _He was watching warily from his spot in the snow - probably only getting colder and colder.

_What does one do in this sort of situation? _She looked around the icy landscape, and then back to her tracks.

"Would you like a blanket or something? I'm pretty sure I have an extra in my pack. Or maybe…" _How do I get a thalmor to **not** get themselves killed by the weather?_ She narrowed her eyes in thought. _I could just wait until he passes out again, and then drag him over… But that would be a lot of work._ _And I don't think that he'd take kindly to waking up in a camp he had no memory of…_

_Speaking of camp, how am I going to get Sergius to-_

She was interrupted by a hoarse voice. "Who are you?"

Evelyn blinked in surprise.

_He speaks! It was slightly slurred, so he's definitely not all 'here,' but it's better than nothing._

_Wait. I should probably answer the question._

She focused back on reality.

"Ah! I'm Evelyn." She paused before waving at her robes. "Of the College of Winterhold."

There was a spark of recognition in the elf's eyes. Evelyn took it as a sign to continue. She held her hand out. The elf watched her warily. "Considering this situation and all that..." - _That you're not getting anywhere without help at this point in time, and that I am apparently incapable of just walking away..._

"Mind if I help you out of that snow there?"

* * *

It was taking blood, sweat, and tears, but Evelyn was determined to get the thalmor back to the horses.

Blood from her chapped lips - cracked, numb, and stinging in the wind.

Sweat from struggling back up the hill that had been** so** easy to come down just an hour earlier.

Tears because, in all honesty, the thalmor was probably the **worst** possible person to try and get back to camp.

The stubborn mer just kept trying to walk on his own and nearly falling - it was **infuriating**. _You'd think that he would stop after the first near-faceplant, but noo... he needs to preserve his precious thalmor superiority. He can't let a human help him, can he?_

She grumbled along to herself as the mer, yet again, tripped. He almost went down into the snow, but a quick backward step on her part had him stumbling into her back instead. Of course the impact nearly toppled her, but there was no way it could be worse than slowly dragging someone with no hand-eye coordination to their feet.

Standing up the first time had taken the better part of half an hour. Partly from stupid elf pride, and partly from her own wimpish strength. She wasn't going through that again. Getting him off the ground now would be even harder than that because, now, she was exhausted as well. With momentum as the only thing keeping her moving, she would gladly take almost-falling so long as she didn't have to stop moving for too long.

With a delayed reaction, the thalmor hissed and backed away. He didn't thank her for her assistance, but she wasn't really expecting anything.

_At least this time he didn't complain that I was 'getting in his way.'_ Her eyes narrowed. _If he does **that** again, I might just let him fall and take the consequences._

She grumbled to herself and glared at the snow while she waited for the thalmor to recover from his near-fall. Hugging her sides and rubbing her hands together in an effort to warm, she was missing her warming spell. But, with the elf conscious, casting anything was out of the question.

As a result, her toes were stuck in frozen 'can't feel anymore' limbo and her fingers were numbly shaking underneath the sleeves of her robes. Being miserable and cold wasn't new to her in Skyrim, but she preferred to avoid such situations. She glanced backward again. The elf wasn't shivering as much as earlier, but it was still noticeable, and his face was growing red from the cold.

She found herself satisfied that he looked about as cold as she felt.

_See, Gjolrik? I'm not the only one who struggles with cold weather! __It's the nords that are the weird ones!_

Feeling properly vindicated, she waited as her unlikely hiking companion finally collected himself before moving forward. Every few meters of travel she checked to make sure he was still there. Time bled into inconsequentiality.

* * *

She didn't realize that they were on the last ridge until the crevasse came into view. It was the most beautiful sight - there were no new tracks around it. No other creatures were in sight. No runaway horses, no trolls, no disturbances...

It was glorious.

She grinned and turned around with as much of a flourish as she could manage. The mer looked at her strangely. "We have arrived at our destination."

She turned back toward the camp, still smiling. "Well - almost arrived. The camp is just over this hill."

* * *

The master enchanter looked mildly ill as he observed the newest addition to the camp.

"Who. Is that?"

"No idea - found him on my way back from the ruins. I just know that he is a thalmor."

"Why did you... **What**?..." Sergius was at a loss for words, going between staring blankly in her direction and grimacing, eyes squeezed shut to block out the insanity. He looked up from his breakdown. "So you left the horses to go to the bandit camp because you were **curious**. Then you... manage to find a **thalmor** justiciar in the middle of nowhere." A deep breath. More whisper-yelling. "You **knew** he was a thalmor justiciar, and then you decided to bring him back to our camp?"

"...Apparently?"

Sergius looked at her like she was crazy.

Evelyn winced. She couldn't justify her leaving camp - that was a bad decision. No getting around that. There could have been trolls or ice wraiths or any other number of vicious Skyrim predators lurking nearby. It was a small miracle that nothing had happened at camp, actually.

Sergius looked over to the thalmor, who was sitting stiffly by the fire. Faralda and Nirya were on unofficial 'babysit the thalmor' duty thanks to their being not only the only elves in the group of mages, but also **altmer**. If any of them could keep a thalmor occupied and non-hostile, it was those two.

Sergius let out an exasperated sigh and handed her a bowl of soup. "I'd like a more detailed explanation soon."

Evelyn nodded.

_Time to come up with reasoning besides 'I am really bad at that thing called common sense.' Hopefully something that won't dig my hole deeper. ...__Maybe I can play up the 'what if Ancano found out' argument? It's very unlikely, but I'd prefer to pass as an inexperienced novice than a liability._


	20. Dawnstar

**Chapter Twenty: Dawnstar**

* * *

The elf stared blankly at the stone ledge and tried to figure out when everything had gone wrong.

_It had been bad before, after the ambush. But now..._ He swallowed back the bile.

He had failed.

A hand gripped the rocky edge. Bloody and numb, the elf heaved himself upward. He would just get back to Markarth. Deliver his report. Get back in the field. Then take care of the problem. Surely Ondolemar would see reason - the east needed to be cleared. The actions of the past two weeks could not go unanswered.

He pulled himself over the ridge. There were trees in the distance. He wheezed.

_Report._

Breathing shakily, clutching his chest, he looked back toward the icy wastes. Back toward his failure.

_Return._

He thought about the ambush. The sharp pain near his heart. Blank stares and fallen friends. The long week that followed... The elf growled.

_Retribution._

He limped westward.

* * *

**14th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 201, Sundas**

* * *

Estormo did not know what to make of the College mages. The elderly human had allowed him to rest in their camp, but the mages had also avoided talking with him for any longer than necessary. They hadn't provided him with any comforts other than a few light blankets, and had essentially ignored him all morning.

It was a situation that he would, at any other time, label as disrespectful to his station.

Uncomfortable lodgings and distrustful gazes when they thought he was asleep. Quiet whispers in the dead of night. He shifted in place.

It was obvious that they did not trust him.

But, they **had** agreed to let him escort them to Solitude. He could contact Ondolemar through the Embassy. Let him know that search parties would only be useful for returning the bodies back to Alinor.

Estormo cut that thought off and forced himself to focus on the present.

He grimaced. They had asked him to be their 'escort' - as if he was providing security. He looked over to the altmer mages. He had seen those two arrive the day prior. After discovering that there was an extra person at their camp, both had mobilized with practiced efficiency. One cast a powerful armor spell and the other melted nearly all the nearby snow with the heat from her readied fire spell. The elderly man following behind had leveled a staff at him, electricity sparking from the end.

It had only been the frantic waving of the young mage that had prevented them from attacking.

He stared down at the dead embers of the fire. They were asking **him**, a lone thalmor that had been all but dragged back to the camp, to escort **them** to their destination. His eyes narrowed. _Unlikely._

They were College mages, and they were simply humoring his pride.

He let out his breath, watching as the fog floated away.

He was sure that he should be feeling more outraged on his own behalf. That he should be analyzing each of the mages to see whether they were allies, assets, or enemies. Or at least see who could most benefit the Aldmeri Dominion.

But instead, he sat near the firepit in silence.

He just couldn't bring himself to care about the proscribed course of action.

Quarrennen was dead.

He had seen him fall - crippled by an arrow while his back was turned, then attacked on all sides by the frenzied nords.

Fighting had been futile after that, he knew, and he had continued despite that fact. But then something had hit him in the side - an arrow, dripping with an unknown liquid. His vision had blurred soon afterward. The last memories he had of that day were of blood and blank eyes and freezing numbness.

Then he had woken up to find himself hanging from a wall in chains, Kaladil injured beside him.

He bowed his head.

_Kaladil._

Another whose death would be avenged.

Kaladil had helped him escape, he knew that. But he couldn't remember how they had gotten separated. It had been a haze. _Even now, I cannot recall anything other than seeing Kaladil cast a spell on both of us and disappear. ...Being pulled along and then a crash - then he was gone. _There had been nothing left to follow._ Then there was the snow - the unforgiving wind. The cold. _Walking had been so difficult-

He froze in place as a wave of nausea swept over him. He felt himself drifting too far. It was so cold. He was falling. He **had** fallen...

Yesterday, that is.

Teeth clenched, he forced his eyes open. No. He was still sitting. Still stiff and uncomfortable on a frozen boulder. He shivered.

A wary glance around the campsite showed that nothing had moved since he had frozen in place. The bald mage was preparing a morning meal, and the others were packing up the horses. None were looking his way. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the small bedroll near the fire embers. The younger mage slept on. With a frown, he noted that she hadn't shown any signs of waking, even though the sky had begun to brighten.

He shuddered for a moment before straightening his attire.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn awoke slowly that morning, too lazy and comfortable to leave her bedroll. Something thudded onto the ground near her. An eye peeked open. _A sack of potatoes._ She rolled over and squinted toward the fire. _They're packing up._ _Looks like I'm the last one up again. _

Dragging herself out of the bedroll, she started packing. _I need to make sure I'm not delaying our hike to Dawnstar._ Everyone else looked to be about halfway finished with their own packing. She paused and did a quick calculation. She could make up for the lost time if she powered through the morning. _Who even needs breakfast, anyway?_ She looked over as Faralda passed with a heavy load of pots and pans.

* * *

As time passed, she noticed that she wasn't catching up to the others fast enough. They all seemed to be scrambling to get ready.

_They're moving faster than usual - I might need to skip lunch too at this rate. _She frowned._ Why is everyone packing so quickly today?_

_Well, everybody except the Thalmor._ The mer was sitting near the fire, still as a statue. _Did he sleep sitting like that? That's exactly where he was last night. __Same position, too._

Shaking her head, she tied up her bedroll and investigated the books. _Still secure. Good. _She grabbed two of the sacks and packed them onto the mare. Halfway through tying up the last of them, a hand tapped her shoulder. It was Sergius, holding out a steaming bowl.

With a scrambled thanks, she took her unexpected breakfast off his hands and went back to checking all the straps.

It was only after he spoke that she realized he hadn't moved. "Will the horse be able to carry more weight?"

She looked over her shoulder as she finished tying the knots. "I don't think that my horse can handle too much more weight. Though I'm game for trying to fit in some lighter things if you need the room on your horse." _It would require messing around with the weights to be sure nothing will fall off, but it would be manageable. Wonder why he's asking..._

Her eyes widened in recognition. _Oh yeah, the thalmor. __He doesn't have a horse. _

She looked over at the stiff elf to see that he hadn't budged an inch since she had begun getting ready for the day._ He's not really in good shape to be walking, either._

_So he needs to use a horse, and Sergius is asking me if my horse can carry extra weight... _

She groaned mentally. _Oh._

_Guess I'll be walking._

"So you understand."

She nodded. _I can't say I'm surprised that I'm the one donating my horse to the cause, considering that I'm the one that dragged the mess back to camp. _"He'll be using my horse? Yes?" A nod from Sergius. "Okay, I'll just need some time to fix a few things before we leave."

_Ugh. I'll probably have to carry some books myself to make up for the thalmor's heaviness._

With a resigned sigh, Evelyn walked to her packed bags and began unloading.

_On the bright side, It will be easier to collect ingredients when I'm on the ground._

_..._

_But it doesn't change the fact that my feet will hate me by the time the day is done._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Estormo maintained his silence as the day wore on, ignoring the not-so subtle staring from the mages behind him. He thought it fitting that the only noise was the whistling of the wind and the plodding of hooves in snow. The air was tense, but that was preferable to carefree naivete. He busied himself by monitoring their surroundings.

Narrow eyes scanned over the landscape. _An overhang half a mile away - a possible shelter for bandits or beasts. Avoid and watch closely to be certain that nothing leaves the cave mouth. _He looked to the right. _A tower, far in the distance. _Too far for anything to have spotted them traveling. _Not a threat. _

He silently cursed when, only an hour or so later, a mild snowstorm started up, blocking his view of anything farther than a dozen yards or so.

The horses plodded on while his hands were pale from gripping the reins.

* * *

They had been riding for the better part of the day when someone finally spoke.

"What is that?" The youngest mage.

Immediately, he swiveled toward the conversation. _She must have seen something through the snowstorm._

"Hm?" The bald mage – Sergius Turrianus – angled his horse over to where the younger human mage was walking. Estormo clamped down a feeling of uneasiness - just as he had done since they set out in the morning.

He subtly turned his head to scan the blowing snow, readying himself for a fight. Whatever she had seen could be hostile. It would at least be dangerous - nearly everything in Skyrim was dangerous.

She pointed off the path. "Over there." He focused on the area. Long minutes passed, but there was nothing to be seen.

He couldn't get himself to relax afterward, however. The snow flying in the winds was difficult to see through - anything could be hiding in the storm. There could be a frost troll just out of visible range for all he knew.

He tightened his hands on the reins as the older human shook his head.

"There's nothing there. No reason to get worried."

The young mage stopped in the road and faced off the side. Turrianus pulled his horse to a stop, stalling the rest of the group. "We need to keep moving. The day is growing late."

She remained stationary for a minute longer, narrowed her eyes, and then huffed before resuming walking. She checked her side every few steps, monitoring the area.

Estormo glanced sidelong where she had faced, and nudged the horse forward slowly.

* * *

**20th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Loredas**

* * *

Call her paranoid, but she was certain that whatever she had seen was still out there. Even now, she could see evidence that it was trailing them - a wisp in the snow, ice that fell in different directions than the wind would have caused. A patch of icicles that were sprouting from the ground nearby. She was almost certain that it was an ice wraith.

_It's trailed us all the way to the outskirts of Dawnstar. Whatever it is, it's persistent._

_Although I can't figure out why it hasn't attacked us yet._

_...I could investigate._

Evelyn looked around the campfire. Nirya was on watch, the thalmor was brooding again, and Sergius and Faralda were sitting in silence. There had been no more banter following her last attempt to investigate.

_Or, alternatively, I could stay here and not annoy the College mages any further than they already are - especially the night before our arrival in Dawnstar. Finding an ice wraith while alone would not be beneficial to my health. __Plus, I don't even know for certain that it **is** an ice wraith. It could be a wispmother or something. __Both are deadly, so both are best if avoided._

_So I can either stay or run out into the dark on my own like a fool. _She chuckled to herself. _Not much of a decision._

In a few minutes, she was asleep in her bedroll.

* * *

**21st of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Sundas**

* * *

Dawnstar was boring. There was no getting around it. The houses were as dull as the mud below them, the cloudy sky wasn't much more interesting, and only the occasional torch brightened the roadways. Every step the horses took splashed her with icy mud, and the people who were out and about looked haggard. She looked down at her feet - where the slush had soaked into her boots. _Not that I look much better._

They trekked straight through the town, stopping outside a building on the docks. After Sergius had a conversation with a scruffy-looking nord, a few dock workers brought out empty crates. They were quick to unload her and Sergius' horses and pack up the heaviest items. The only things left unpacked were her sack of unidentified trinkets and a few bags of food, too large to fit in the limited number of crates.

Faralda and Nirya's horses were kept separate, and after all of Sergius's enchanted items were loaded, they took the horses and left, mounting up and riding east. Evelyn watched as they slowly disappeared from sight. _Now it's only me, Sergius, and the thalmor._

Sergius gestured to the workers to carry the crates onto the docks.

"I need to talk with the captain, can I trust that you'll stay out of trouble while I discuss our passage?"

"Yep, I'll be staying here." Evelyn nodded before plopping herself down on a frozen stump. She looked at the boats in the dock while Sergius double-checked his coinpurse._ None of those look terribly sturdy._

_But, a boat will be faster than walking to Solitude - that's what matters._

She felt her stomach twist.

_It shouldn't be as bad as Gjolrik's cart, right? No pot-holes, and I won't be freezing? _

She shuddered and picked up her trinket sack.

Sergius glanced between her and the thalmor before striding to the far side of the docks.

The thalmor, whom she still hadn't gotten a name from, leaned on a nearby wall. He was glaring at people from beneath his borrowed College robes. Evelyn sighed and settled down to wait for Sergius to finish up.


	21. A Bad Night

**Chapter Twenty-One: A Bad Night**

* * *

**21st of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Sundas**

* * *

She should have known that life could never be so easy for her.

Several guards in stormcloak blue surrounded her and the crates. She couldn't see what the thalmor was doing, but she did see the lead stormcloak tighten her grip on her axe.

"Halt. State your business in Dawnstar."

"We came to Dawnstar for passage west on College of Winterhold business." The woman frowned, so she continued. "We're heading to the Bard's College over in-" The stormcloak cut her off by lazily pulling out an axe. The woman's eyes flashed behind her - to where the thalmor had been leaning.

"I don't know what you're playing, imperial, but you and the elf aren't leaving before we-" she gestured to the guards around her "-can agree that you aren't imperial spies."

There was suspicion, but Evelyn didn't think the woman was fully hostile. _Hopefully, that means that she doesn't really think that I'm a spy. My 'friend' behind me, on the other hand..._

_If only she knew... That really wasn't what I wanted to hear, though. __If they look too closely and the thalmor gets found out in the middle of stormcloak territory... It **won't** be pretty._

She felt her palms grow clammy. _How do I get out of this?_

The stormcloak soldiers spread, blocking both her and the thalmor from leaving the area.

_Think. Think!- I'm terrible at lying, so that's a no go. I could try misleading them? Distracting them and then run like a madman for cover?_

_No. They have an archer. Lessons learned from the cutscene with Lokir the horse-thief: Running from archers is a terrible idea. __That would also incriminate us even further._

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the thalmor was tense - very tense. His hand was drifting downward, and it looked like there would soon be a spell at the ready. If he attacked, then there were be no possibility of walking away peacefully.

The guards were shifting their grip on their weapons. One man lazily hefted a warhammer on a shoulder. He looked like he could bench press twice her weight and not break a sweat. Evelyn swallowed thickly, her thoughts running a mile a minute.

_I need to diffuse the situation. ...I could pretend that he is a member of the College of Winterhold. But it doesn't look like these guards care. They'll investigate him anyway._

_I need to keep them occupied and unsuspicious. If I want them to think I'm a harmless College mage, I'll need to act the part - so I need to act like a stereotypical College mage._

_Ok. That would include social ineptness, lack of awareness of surroundings, snooty - wait, that could make them more hostile - I'll trade snooty for situationally unaware. Add in a dose of extreme friendliness and obsession over research, and we've got a recipe for overenthusiastic College of Winterhold student._

_Only dangerous if you get stuck listening to them talk about their favorite subject._

She hummed to herself, then nodded agreeably. "Sure! Makes sense. Just please put back everything as you found it - I have no idea what some of those things in there do."

She had no time to check the thalmor as the nord woman raised an eyebrow. "And here I was, under the impression that you College mages knew everything." She opened the sack laying on the book crates. The nord paused for a moment. "Not going to say anything, mage?"

_I just need to delay them until Sergius gets back._

She shrugged. "Nothing much to say. I truly have no idea what they are - I haven't investigated necromancer trinkets before. I mainly study the Merethic Era." _Pause like I'm waiting for her to ask me about the Merethic Era... Ok, done. Moving on awkwardly. _Evelyn gestured to the bag. "I could try to get the information to you after I've figured out their uses. If you wanted, of course."_ Act helpful._ The stormcloak scoffed and began rooting through the items, though with less enthusiasm than Evelyn had expected.

Minutes passed as the woman dug out every last little thing in the bag, dropping each on the ground as she found them. The stormcloak kept up a running tirade of how Evelyn had to wait 'just a bit longer,' as customs took a long time to complete when they were done in a properly thorough manner. She spouted nonsense such as 'this may not be in your **precious** Empire _(venom in her tone)_, but the people here are **just** as lawful and organized - the Empire is ignorant if they think the Stormcloaks are lawless,' and so on.

Meanwhile, the thalmor had stopped his subtle hand motions and was standing stiffly as the other stormcloaks investigated the sacks of potatoes. Evelyn allowed herself a moment to breathe. _Disaster averted._

_Thank goodness we switched out his old robes. It looks like these stormcloaks are just trying to be annoying now, rather than hostile._

She sat down on a boulder to watch as the woman continued insulting the imperials. That, of course, triggered a tirade from another stormcloak about the laziness of imperials, which turned into a speech about Ulfric Stormcloak's ideals. Evelyn made sure to nod along with what was being said, taking mental notes for later. Inwardly, she was fuming at the lack of care taken with the necromancer trinkets. _Act like you are seriously considering her arguments. Don't try to pick anything up until she's done._

Evelyn twiddled her thumbs as she waited.

If she ignored the desecration of carefully collected artifacts and having a thalmor one wrong move away from attacking, she would probably find her situation amusing. The woman was unaware that one of the 'College mages' was a thalmor - arguably worse than an imperial spy, and she had no idea that her attempts to insult Evelyn by railing on imperial culture were pointless. Evelyn wasn't an imperial, no matter how much she apparently looked the part. She also wasn't technically a mage, but that was another fact she would avoid pointing out. As things stood, the woman could rant all day and Evelyn would be perfectly fine.

The thalmor, though, was starting to twitch, so hopefully the stormcloak would tone down her Ulfric and Talos fangirling before he cracked.

_We just need to last until Sergius gets back._

* * *

Eventually, the lecture ended and the woman finished dropping the last of the trinkets into the mud. After a short bout of gesturing in various directions with her fellow guards, she returned to Evelyn and the thalmor. Thankfully he had stopped twitching a few minutes earlier. "Looks like you're clear." The woman tossed the empty sack on the ground in front of them. She sneered. "Keep your nose clean here." And with a decisive turn, she was gone - off to patrol other areas of Dawnstar.

Evelyn looked between the bedraggled sack and the pile of muddy objects. Her shoulders dropped in a huff as she dragged herself over.

_At least these weren't sorted yet - if they were organized and **then** messed with, the guard and I would have had a... disagreement. _

She picked a shabby ring out of a puddle.

_But did the lady really **have** to drop them?_

She crouched down next to the pile and packed up for the second time that day, grimacing._ Looks like I'll be cleaning them later today before the mud cakes on too much. _She gave the muddy road a baleful glare. _Wonderful._

She wiped off a flute - _looks fancy_ \- and set it in the bag. Then picked up a grimy necklace. _Not gold. _Looked closer. _Maybe it's made of that dwemer metal? _Dropped it in the bag. _I'll need to properly sort these later. After they're all clean, of course._

"Sera? Muthsera?"

She looked up from her packing to see a thick-bearded dunmer flanked by a nord and an imperial. Nose upturned and arms crossed, he looked like he would rather eat his own arm than start a conversation. Or maybe his face was just naturally set to 'scowling.' Evelyn couldn't tell. She scooped the remaining items into the sack with a wince. _That mud is going to be hard to get rid of._

The dunmer straightened a bit before bowing. "Good day, sera." He inclined his head to the thalmor. "Muthsera." Inclined his head in her direction. "If you'll just follow me to the Sea Squall, Captain Wayfinder will get you set up for the night." He gestured to his companions and then turned around.

* * *

Evelyn followed the dunmer on board, flinching in place as the deck started leaning to one side. And then it started leaning the other way.

She looked around with wide eyes to make sure that -_ yes, the ship just tilted and no, no one is worried - so calm down a bit._ Thankfully, after a moment of shuffling toward the people standing on the deck, the rocking of the ship slowed. She all but ran the rest of the way to them. _The ground is not supposed to move. Only escalators and conveyor belts should be allowed that power. _She took a shaky breath.

_If a canoe leaned like this on the lake at summer camp, I would be **very** worried. How is this safe again?_

_But the ocean isn't a calm lake. _Looking around, some of the sailors didn't quite manage to smooth out their smirks before she caught sight of them._ They probably think that I'm an idiot._

She blinked.

_...I'm carrying a sack of necromancer tools and treasures, dragged a thalmor into a stormcloak controlled town, and willingly agreed to take a ship to Solitude. I'm inclined to agree with them._

Evelyn stood tensely as the rest of the group caught up, the grumpy dunmer staying only long enough for a young man to arrive before slinking off somewhere. She noted that the thalmor stayed wherever he was behind her and Sergius, avoiding any physical contact.

_At least I know now that Ancano came by his hovering honestly. ...Maybe they teach it at thalmor school?_

The man turned toward her and the thalmor with a smile.

"I'm Captain Wayfinder, of the Sea Squall. Unfortunately, it is too late to start sailing now, but we'll head out tomorrow at dawn!" The nord jogged away from them to check on the other sailors, then jogged back.

"We will set out for Solitude tomorrow. Bregvar and Guthrum can get you situated in your rooms, sirs, and Carmana can show you yours, miss."

The ship lurched again, and it took all of her control to avoid falling.

Sergius took a long-suffering sigh before turning to the Captain.

"That would be wonderful."

* * *

Below deck, Evelyn ran a hand over the wall of her room. _This ship looks like it's seen better days..._ There were a few dull splinters, but the majority was smoothed by age. In places, there were obvious patch jobs to the hull. Large sections of different colored wood. She pulled out her College bag from where it was hidden in the cabin hammock.

The boat shifted, and her stomach went with it. _It's actually **worse** than traveling with Gjolrik - I can't get off this death-trap for a break!_

She waited for the boat to settle before looking around the room. There were three other hammocks - home to a few of the female sailors on board.

She had already forgotten all of their names.

_Just like I've forgotten the name of that weird Imperial. He was very friendly but really polite. Polite to the point that it was painful, even._ Evelyn remembered the formal bows and convoluted greetings of the hour prior. _There is no polite way to tell someone that you don't want your chair pushed in. __Sergius and the thalmor accepted theirs with little fuss though, so it has to be an imperial thing._

_Or it could be a polite formality thing?_

_If that is the level of formality required of Imperials, then I need to start studying before I blow my cover. Trying to copy others and 'faking it till I make it' might not be enough. _Her stomach tilted over again. _At least I can plead seasickness for any mistakes that I must have made back there._

She pulled out a few trinkets and started wiping them down.

A murky bottle - _whatever is inside isn't liquid_. The necklace. _Enchanted._

The interesting flute. _Wipe off the dried mud._

_There's a name here... Wait a second._

She broke into a grin.

_This will be useful in the future._

* * *

She was pleasantly surprised that night to find that the hammocks minimized the swaying of the ship. Avoiding seasickness was well-worth the discomfort of salt-smelling sheets. She closed her eyes.

* * *

**22nd of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Morndas**

* * *

Evelyn felt strange when she woke up. She couldn't feel the scratchy hammock and she couldn't tell which direction was up or down. All she saw when she opened her eyes was darkness - a formless void. She couldn't even see her hands when she held them in front of her. The air felt thick and thin, alternating slowly. If she held out a hand in either direction, she liked to think that she could feel the change as it passed her by.

It was like waves of humid summer air separated by the ice of Skyrim mountain air. Except everything was somehow the same temperature.

After some time, she realized that there was a pattern to the ripples. Whatever the source was, it was moving around her. Deliberately.

She tried to focus on where the waves were coming from.

She paused. Something was off.

_The pattern changed._

A surge in pressure and then the waves were coming at shorter intervals. The presence stopped too close for comfort, and Evelyn was certain that she would be sweating if she could. She would be moving away if only her body would listen.

She tried to wave away the presence but her fingers barely twitched. She could feel her lack of motion even though she could not see it.

It flared even closer, remaining out of sight. Considering. Curious. Hungry.

Evelyn's mind blurred.

The air was vibrating between liquid and void. Air thick enough to be water would be followed by emptiness. Taking in a breath only to have it sucked out a moment later.

Panicking, her only thought was to **get away.**

She saw tendrils of color in the blackness around her.

**Hide.**

There was a low hum in the air. She tried to curl into herself.

**Anything.**

There were shapes now.

Another surge, getting closer. Like watching a wave coming.

Closer...

She opened her eyes.

* * *

Her head hurt. _Why does my head hurt?_

_Wait, why do my knees hurt too?_

She moved her hand. _Wait. Don't fall over. Did I already fall?_

_Ground. The ground. No. It's wood._

_I'm on the floor. Need to roll over. Get off the floor, at least._

_Why is the floor moving?_

She stopped trying to get up for a second.

_Ok. The floor is definitely moving... I'm on a boat. In Dawnstar. _She breathed deeply.

_The boat is going to take us to Solitude._

Rolling over, there was no light in the cabin. Her eyes had adapted to the dark though, so it was easy to see that she had apparently thrown herself out of her hammock. _No wonder my knees hurt. _

She waited for another minute or two - just until her motor control was good enough to keep her off the floor - before moving out. _It's too dark in here._

The door was harder to open than expected, but she managed it. _Out through the narrow hallway, into the storage area, then up the hatch._

A sailor on guard duty gave her a strange look, but he didn't say anything as she dragged herself onto the deck. With a brief shudder, she made sure to avoid stepping on any of the dark areas on the deck - the predawn light cast long shadows. _Reminds me of... The dream? No, that was closer to a nightmare._

Evelyn shook her head and sat down, hugging her legs to herself. The glow near the eastern horizon showed that the sun would rise shortly.

_My head feels clearer up here in the open air. It feels less suffocating. _She watched the sky grow lighter.

_This is Dawnstar... That had to be part of the nightmare quest! That one where you find the priest of Mara that's really an old cultist. And then the player can either claim the staff - Staff of Corruption - or destroy it._

_Could I try to fix this?..._

_Run into an abandoned temple, drink a potion meant for Vaermina cultists, wake up the cultists and bandits, and then fight my way out?_

She thought back to the necromancer lair and the terrible room, bodies everywhere.

She shuddered, feeling colder than before.

_Nope, I don't think that it would be a good idea. _

_Even ignoring my current lack of combat ability, p__lot armor is not something that I have in abundance. Only the Dragonborn's got claim to that. _

She paused, considering.

_-And essential characters, possibly. Vaermina is not likely to take kindly to anyone but a possible champion trying the potion. __I'll leave f__oolhardiness for Akatosh's chosen one. If I want to get rid of the dreams, I could try to get the Dragonborn here... Once I get out of Dawnstar._

The pale halo of light brightened into reds and oranges.

Feeling more comfortable, she twiddled her thumbs and considered the options. _Sending a letter should work, couriers **are** unnaturally good at finding people-_

There was a crash below deck. She winced. _And the nightmares strike again. Let's not spend another night near Dawnstar. __In fact, let's leave as soon as possible - I'd like to get as far away from the Vaermina cultist castle as possible. I don't know the range of the nightmare staff. _

Voices moved below, then a slamming door. She winced. _Someone isn't happy. _

A few seconds later, just as the first sliver of the sun appeared, the trapdoor flew open. _Sergius. _He swiveled his head around the deck to where she was sitting. She waved.

"What are you doing out here, novice?"

_Bring up the nightmare, or let sleeping dogs lie and avoid the topic? He should have at least some idea that it takes more than a train wreck to get me up in the middle of the night. This predawn wake-up is not normal._

_Hmm... if I admit the nightmare, could I drop hints that I think the nightmares are coming from east of Dawnstar? To get us away faster? But what if he decides to go over there to take care of the problem?_

"Well?"

She focused on the enchanter. _I'll try to let him know what he'd be getting himself into if he tried to mess with the nightmares._

"Had a bad dream and I don't think it was natural. So I came outside for a breath of fresh air."

She shuffled her feet. _And you? _Sergius was breathing loud enough to be heard over the waves. _You had a nightmare as well, didn't you._ _This is definitely the start of the quest._ _Which means that everyone in Dawnstar should have had one last night._

Another thump below deck and Sergius scowled. He pulled himself all the way up and made way for the captain.

A very frazzled captain.

Sergius gave her a thoughtful look. "Then we are in agreement. Did you sense anything else?"

"Well, I'd guess that it is targeting Dawnstar... and dreams..." _Don't give away too much. Don't be suspicious. Time to drag the priest of Mara into the mess._ "do they have a priest here? Or someone that could deal with daedra?" _Take the hint, please._

Sergius cut in, taking over the conversation. "Daedra, yes... Nightmares are in the domain of the daedra. Necromancers would be raising your graveyard, vampires are not as obvious, and werewolves aren't exactly known for their magical prowess." His voice trailed off as he continued, and Evelyn was quite happy with backing out of the conversation to let his brain run wild.

He turned to the sailors.

"I would suspect this to be the work of a creature aligned with the Daedric Prince Vaermina. The Dreamweaver has been known to bring nightmares and then steal the victims' memories."

The captain looked ill. Evelyn realized that Sergius did not look much better.

"I would suggest leaving the area as soon as possible. We have no idea how long these dreams will last, and I have nothing with me that can defy the will of a Daedric Prince."

Captain Wayfinder nodded mutely before climbing back below deck, with Sergius following suit soon after.

After the news spread, the rest of the crew was dead set on leaving as quickly as possible, preferably before the sun rose fully. Rumors of a 'haunted Dawnstar' were more than enough encouragement for them after the rough night. She noticed that a few of the sailors had taken a moment after receiving their orders to pull out amulets and pray. The majority were Kynareth, but a handful of Akatosh and Talos were also present.

_Thank goodness the thalmor isn't above deck yet. He probably would have listed them as heretics for later arrest._

She frowned.

_Is he still sleeping? It's getting pretty late in terms of 'native tamrielan wake-up times.'_


	22. Waking up on the Wrong Side of Bed

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Waking Up on the Wrong Side of Bed**

* * *

**22nd of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Morndas**

* * *

After being politely 'asked' to return to the cabin while the crew worked, Evelyn commandeered a corner of the room - the one under her hammock. She sat for a moment, deep in thought, before bringing out her bag of trinkets.

_Top priority is cleaning the remainder of the muddy ones. Then comes detailed sorting._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Estormo woke with a start, eyes wide open and breathing heavily. _Slow breaths. Take stock of the situation, then make a plan. _He stumbled to his feet and stared. All around him was wilderness - snow covering lightly wooded hills, dark clouds in the distance - a storm was coming. There was pine smoke on the wind.

"Are you feeling well, Larethorin?"

He froze. _I know that voice. _

He turned around to see a small campfire. A very familiar campfire.

Figures were sitting around it, warming their hands and looking at him strangely. In dark robes and golden feathered armor. And right in front of him was a mer in the robes of a Justiciar. _Quarrennen. _He looked around. There was Kaladil, and there Ragnaril, and Faemon was eating his daily apple-

_Was it all a dream? ...Could it have been a vision?_

"Agent Larethorin?" Quarennen was speaking more sharply than before - he was concerned.

_He sounds so **real**. Like he was never..._

Ondolemar's voice filtered through his thoughts. _Deal with the problem in front of you before trying to figure out the 'why' of the problem. Knowing why a bear is charging at you isn't nearly as important as getting out of the way._

He cleared his throat. "I'm not entirely sure. I-" He frowned. "I am confused."

_But the vision seemed real as well._

"Did something happen?"

He clenched his fists - he could feel the pain. _**This is real** \- but what about the vision?_

"Not yet."

_I saw what will **\- what could -** happen today. _

He remembered this day - the storm coming in would restrict visibility, and they would be ambushed by nords before the day was done. _Then, all but me and Kaladil will-_ He shook his head and moved to the fellow Justiciar. "What did you say to me when we were assigned to Skyrim?"

A pause, and another concerned look. "I congratulated you. Nothing more, nothing less."

Estormo exhaled in relief.

_The best way to find a liar is to fake attachment, and watch as their desperation drives them to concoct fanciful stories._

_He's not lying, s__o neither shall I._

"I believe that I might have had a vision last night." _It seemed so real. Traveling with College mages, arriving at Dawnstar..._

**_The ambush._**

_If the dream was truly a vision, then I need to prevent the ambush._

"Like the visions the master wizards in Alinor received prior to the return of Masser and Secunda?"

Quarrennen was staring intently now, and a few others near the campfire were listening in with various levels of subtlety.

"Possibly. It covered the next few weeks, but the deciding event was to happen today." He tilted his head toward the thickening cloud cover. "There was-" **_not past tense._** "There **will** be - an ambush by nords in the middle of that storm."

A hand on his shoulder. "**Tell me**."

* * *

They hiked through the deep snow in silence, tensely readying their spells, and making sure that their potions were accessible.

_**Who was killed first? **_He needed to know, so they could be ready for the ambush. Estormo rifled through his memories. _Kaladil was shot first, but he survived the ambush. One of the guards - Faemon or Ragnaril, got shot afterward. Then Koren. I think. I don't know exactly when they died. _**_But you already told them that. That won't help._**

He winced. Yes, he had already informed them of all he could remember. _But what if it isn't enough?_ What did he need to do to save the others? What was he forgetting in his memories of the ambush? Was there anything he hadn't done yet that could help?

A whistle pierced through the air and his eyes widened. Everyone around him brought up their mage armor and cast wards. The guards retreated behind the mages and pulled out their bows.

But nothing happened.

Then the whistle sounded again.

And again.

And still, nothing.

* * *

He was losing his patience waiting for the inevitable. The rest of the group looked mildly amused at his paranoia, but Quarrennen made sure that they kept their weapons at the ready. He knew that there was going to be an ambush. _But what if my preparations made them cancel it?_

He shook his head. _Wishful thinking._ They are probably waiting for the best time to strike.

He wasn't sure what to believe, but the voice at the back of his mind was saying that he had to stop the ambush.**_ Or ambush the ambushers._**

Yes. That was a good idea.

He was walking over to Quarrennen with his idea when they were all engulfed in chaos.

Arrows from all directions. Just like he remembered.

He saw one of the guards struggling and moved forward with a ward to hopefully block the arrows he knew were coming.

His feet felt as if they were being dragged backward with every step he took. In the end, he was too slow. The guard went down under a hail of arrows. Just like the last time.

But he couldn't see any of the melee fighters from his vision. _Where are they?_

**_Behind you. _**

Alarmed, he turned to see Quarrenen facing three nords alone. One of them raised his axe.

_No. Not again._

Lightning coated his hands as he brought up a lightning-bolt spell. He wasn't going to make it in time - but he **needed** to make it on time.

Barely a second passed before he released the spell, and the nord fell to the side, axe falling uselessly to the ground.

But then one of the other two nords ran his sword through Quarrennen's chest and left Estormo staring blankly at where his friend had stood. No one else was standing - he had failed.

Estormo knew what happened after that, but still gasped when he felt the arrow hit him in the side.

He was grabbed from behind, and then something was being poured down his throat.

He knew no more after that.

_**Good.**_

* * *

In his dreams, Estormo saw Kaladil materialize, sprinting for an outcropping as a slim face appeared over the edge. He was bleeding heavily but still readying a spell. The scene drifted back into nothingness before he could see the result.

* * *

Hands. Grabbing him from all sides. He couldn't move.

And they wouldn't let him go.

He needed to get out - get some air. _Escape._

If he could get his hands free, then he could cast spells - _paralysis would work._ It would get his captor off of him. He just needed to wait. Stop struggling, and wait for his captor to let their guard down. _Go limp. Wait..._

The grip loosened slightly. _A moment longer..._

_Now._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn froze, hand hovering over the pile of dirty trinkets.

_I could have sworn I just heard a crash from the next room over._

She didn't get up from her seat, by now a nest surrounded by knick-knacks and tiny piles of dried mud, but did allow herself to scoot closer.

She placed her ear on the wall, leaning against it.

_Nothing._

_Wait. I can hear something - _

There was a soft hum, familiar thanks to Colette's lessons. Evelyn frowned.

_Why is someone using a ward in there? _

She stood and creeped her way out into the narrow hallway, turning toward the next door down. _I'm not going to open the door, of course -_ _The saying 'curiosity killed the cat' hasn't stuck around as long as it has by being inaccurate._

Evelyn kept her movements as quiet as possible. An easy task with all of the boat's creaking in the background.

_I just want to know what is going on. Sergius hasn't come out in a while._

She paused for a moment. _There isn't any screaming or yelling, at least._

Evelyn was only a foot away from the doorway, leaning forward to listen, when the ship hit a rough wave. Her eyes widened as it pitched her forward.

**_Fudge. _**

Her face smashed into the door with a -rather loud- thump.

_Ow. **Ow.** Nose, please don't be broken. **Please** don't be broken._

Hissing unintelligibly, she leaned back against the wall behind her - and then promptly fell backward through that door.

Her flailing didn't help at all and she was very quickly laying flat on the floor, rocking side-to-side with the waves.

She glared at the ceiling.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Cowards, the whole lot of them!"

"Are you sure that it was the College mages?"

"I'm sure. That little milk-drinker was acting far too calm. I should have known that she'd plan something like this."

"And if it wasn't them?"

"Then who cares? Either they did, and they're refusing to face us like real fighters, or they didn't, and they're running away."

The woman huffed to herself, glaring into the east. Where the faint outline of a sail was visible on the horizon.

She spat. "Filthy milk-drinking cowards."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Still lying on her back, Evelyn sighed in relief when her healing spell finally worked, opening her eyes once the glow died down.

_When can I get off this floating death trap? _

She shook her head and moved toward the offending door. Even now, no one had come out. She needed to know why.

What could she say? Curiosity may kill cats, but everyone knows they've got eight lives to spare anyway?

_Make that six lives left for me. Between escaping the vampires, finding the thalmor, and this boat, I've lost at least three already._

She put her ear to the door. Very carefully, of course.

_Nothing... Wait - it sounds like... Dragging?_

"Sergius? Everything okay in there?" She knocked on the door. It was quiet in the room. Another knock. "Hello?" She shuffled in place, realigning her clothes and brushing off the salt and dirt that she received from the fall.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob. _Wouldn't it be hilarious if the room is empty and I'm freaking out for nothing?_

There was still no sound from the room. _Where's a ten-foot pole when you need it? This whole situation is giving me the creeps._

Her hand came down, and she gently turned the knob, inching the door open by a millimeter before -_carefully_\- turning the knob back the way it was. Then she grabbed her dull dagger and poked the door.

"I'm serious, if there is an axe-murderer or something in there - I'd like to avoid getting attacked, please." Another poke. "And dying. I'd like to keep breathing."

\- Still no response. She poked a little harder. Then a garbled shout.

"Girl, keep the door closed! He's still in here!"

There was an almighty crash and the door slammed back into place, wood only an inch from her face.

She blinked.

Then shook her head and stepped back, eyes narrowing. _What on Earth is going on in there!? Why couldn't he say that before?!_

_You know, when I was practically yelling into the room? And **who'**s in there?! The thalmor? A teleporting pirate?!_

A high-pitched hum filled the air - _louder than the ward I heard earlier_.

The door clicked - _locked shut_ \- before something slid into her foot.

_A key._

Hopping aside, she pocketed the key and backed away from the door. She lost her balance once, but managed to position herself behind the open door to the next room over.

There was a long period of silence where all she did was hold on to the door frame and try to avoid getting too nauseous.

Someone banged on the door.

"The key, please?" It was Sergius. A very angry Sergius if the venom underneath those words was to be believed.

Evelyn shuffled over and slid the key back under the door. She backed away quickly and waited, morbidly curious as to what exactly happened in the room.

She wasn't expecting Sergius to walk out with half his face blue, though, followed by a very disheveled mer. The altmer looked her way briefly before pushing past, making a beeline for the deck.

Sergius stewed, glaring after him until he was out of sight.

She looked between Sergius and the ladder. She closed her mouth.

"We will never speak of this again." With that, he stalked back into the room. The lock clicked into place.

She nodded and drifted back to her room, trying to figure out what just happened.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Chuckles swallowed the tiny room.

"And then... Oh, you should have **seen** their faces! Made up for losing out on a new friend! They were a perfect example of calm and dignity!" Bent over with laughter, he stopped to tap his head in thought. "Ooh, or was it strength and cunning? A demonstration of martial prowess! No... Grace and beauty? Hmm.. Or blood?" He turned solemnly to the bosmer next to him. "What **are** people looking for in other people these days?"

The bosmer stared blankly ahead, mumbling.

"Wait! Don't answer that! It might take all day, and I don't have all day!"

He paused.

"Or do I? I make my own rules of course. Or at least the other mes did and now I have to follow them..."

More mumbling from the side.

"Of course! You're brilliant! I'll just change my mind from the decisions I made before I was born! That'll do it!"

He patted the mer on the back.

"Thank you, as always, for your wonderful advice! But I must be going now - need to change my mind!"

And with a sweep of the man's cape, the elf was left alone in the room, mumbling to himself as he stared at the blue-tiled roof across the way.

"Seven-hundred and eighty-three, seven-hundred and eighty-four, seven-hundred and eighty-five - the boat. The boat and the people - seven-hundred and eighty-six - here, or there? Where? He thinks here - seven-hundred and..."

And inside the closed desk under the window, a quill scribbled on thin parchment.

* * *

**23rd of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Tirdas**

* * *

Floors, in Evelyn's humble opinion, were supposed to stay still. _None of this tilting, creaking, and dropping business._

Seasickness was something that she would wish on no one.

It was only the second day of sailing and she already wanted** off** the floating disaster that was the Sea Squall.

But the worst part was that she had no one to blame but herself. She really should have known better. _If riding in a carriage gets you seasick, then there's no way that an actual boat could be any better. _

The Sea Squall listed to the right and she felt her stomach come up.

Calmy - very calmly - she set down the soul-gem shard she had been cleaning and rose on shaky feet. One step out the door got her to the ladder, and by the time the boat was swaying to the left she was opening the hatch. A quick climb and a shuffle to the side brought her to her least favorite part of the boat. And just on time, too.

She hated being seasick.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"How often does she do that?"

"Oh, I think yesterday's count was twelve. We've got a betting pool running on whether it'll be more or less today."

"Which do you think?"

"More. Definitely more. Today we're passing around Grogner's Peninsula - where the ol' Brinehammer ran aground. The waters around there aren't known for being gentle."

"Anyone betting against?"

"Nystrunn and Ravam."

The younger man grinned. "Then I'll throw my lot in with you."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn sat in silent misery, going over her latest important decision.

She would never get on another seagoing vessel again.

When they headed back to Winterhold, there would be no sailing. **None**. If Sergius wanted to sail, then so be it. He could sail.

But she would walk.

Or even hire a carriage if she was in a rush - either option was better than the nightmare that she was dealing with on this ship. _If possible, I would like to be dropped off immediately._ _Surely there is another port within a few hours of sailing. It doesn't matter how small the port is, I can get there in a rowboat if necessary, or swim-_

"Captain! There's something out there!"

Startled, she squinted into the waves. _Can't see anything. Whatever it is must not be on my side of the ship, then. _

_I'll see what it is when we pass it or whatever, I'm not moving just for an unusual piece of seaweed._

"Someone's out there in a rowboat!"

_A rowboat? If they don't want it, then I'll gladly take it off their hands! _She held her stomach as the ship rolled on the waves. _Once we see land, of course. _She reviewed her increased odds at an early departure before pausing.

_Wait a second - they found a person out here? How are they still alive?_

* * *

Evelyn watched with growing curiosity as a man was dragged on board. A thick-bearded imperial, dripping wet, was not a common sight in sub-zero water. He gratefully accepted a sailor's blanket, and wrapped himself up tightly, shivering all the while. She leaned closer.

"All I want is to find my wife and inform her that I am alive and well - she has probably worried herself to sickness by now." Wayfinder pulled him past her, leading the man over to hatch to below-deck. Wayfinder said something to the man. He shuddered and stopped nearby - close enough for Evelyn to overhear the conversation. "My last ship - she was taken by pirates - fearsome seadogs. I managed to steal a rowboat in the confusion and cast off with some supplies before they sighted me." Mumbling.

The man shook his head. "My apologies - I haven't the slightest idea of where they are sailing. I was far too occupied with evading capture."

Wayfinder nodded and opened the hatch, smile pasted on. "That's fine, I'll just set my men on double watch. If any pirates come, the Sea Squall can outrun them."

* * *

** xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Wayfinder is a fool. Any pirate worth his salt'll have a ship fast enough to outrun us. And double shift just means that twice as many sailors will be tired if it ever comes to a fight!"

Another sailor piped up from the side. "And how are we supposed to outrun the pirates if he insists on risking the sails to this weather?!"

"If those go down, then we're dead meat – no matter if there are pirates nearby or not!"

"I've heard that he's wasting our supplies on the customers – complete land-lubbers, all of them!"

Shouts of approval quieted down as the dunmer stepped up.

"We need to make sure that his oversights don't get us killed."

"Yes! I agree!"

"Me too!"

"So, until further notice, why don't we run the young Captain's orders by me first. We can ignore the orders that hurt more than they help, and little Wayfinder will be none the wiser, happy that the Sea Squall is functioning properly."

The sailors below him nodded vigorously.

"Until then, why don't we all get back to work."

"Yessir!" A younger man – he couldn't remember his name – saluted before he left.

The dunmer grinned to himself as the group split.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

_Perfect._


	23. Delayed Arrivals

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Delayed Arrivals**

* * *

**24th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Middas**

* * *

"Ho, there, Justin! Didn't expect to see you up so soon! We only pulled you out of the water yesterday! And already working on the sails, too!"

The older man grinned down to the newcomer. "It would be a waste to wait idly when the pirates might still be near."

The bright smile dimmed. "I can agree with you on that. Did you want some help with the mast there?"

"Oh, no. I have it handled." The man frowned down at the newcomer. He gestured toward the horizon, obscured in places by fierce sea spray and clouds. "Been on the seas for a while. See - just finished shaking the mainsail out." A wave toward the billowing sail. "No need for you to mess up my handiwork when I only just finished." The man grumbled to himself, but kept a wary eye on the newcomer.

The young sailor raised an eyebrow but backed off. Getting between a crazy sea dog and their self-sufficiency was not a good idea even on the best of days, let alone on days when everyone was tense under the threat of pirates. He raised a hand to placate the man. "Very well, I'll just head back down now." He shook his head as he clumb down to the deck.

After he was out of sight, the castaway sagged against the wooden beam behind him.

He let out a shaky breath and tucked his knife back into his belt.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Nivene walked into the market square, scanning the vendors and customers for her target.

_There!_

She resisted the urge to grin and walked up to a nearby stall - not the closest one, that would be too obvious.

The man had red hair, a pouch of unusually pale potions, and was in the process of lifting a woman's purse while giving her directions - it had to be the 'Brynjolf' her brother wrote about.

_I'll go below to meet up with Niruin soon, but what fun is a surprise visit if you can't surprise anyone on the way? And, my plan is foolproof! I even grabbed a little trinket off those traders, to add authenticity!_

Smiling now, she gestured that she wanted to buy one of Riften's famed honey-nut treats. She exchanged the coins - making sure that they audibly 'clinked' when she dropped them into the stall-owner's hand.

The imperial winced at the noise and quickly shooed her away - no one wanted any more attention from the thieves' guild than was necessary, it seemed.

She waved as she left and meandered toward a jewelry stall. Once there, she pulled out her bait - a silver locket - and began asking the argonian what he thought it was worth. It had been in her family for 'ages,' of course, and her grandmother was 'quite fond' of it.

All of that was a lie, but the khajiit she had 'borrowed' it from had been extremely alarmed once he realized it was gone, so it had to be worth **something**.

She smiled when she heard the wooden planks creak behind her. Then a smooth voice.

"Why hello, lass. You looking to sell that?"

"Oh no, sir. I wanted to know what it was worth. You see, I can't see anything really... interesting about it, but it was obviously important." _To the khajiit._

"Hmm... I might be able to help you with that. May I see it?"

"Sure!"

She watched closely as he examined the necklace, turning it this way and that. She ignored it when she felt a subtle lightening of her purse, focusing on keeping a serious look on her face as he spouted jewelry nonsense. People bustled by them on their way, but none ever dared get too close to the man.

After a few more moments, in which the weight by her side completely disappeared, she thanked him and took back the necklace, putting it on around her neck. She walked off slowly, stopping every now and then to see another stall.

After all, all that was left of her plans for the day was to disappear and find the 'Ragged Flagon' in the 'Cistern.'

She fell in step behind a few people before ducking into an alleyway. Laughing to herself, she climbed down to the lower levels of Riften.

_I hope Brynjolf isn't too annoyed at my purse of iron 'coins' and rocks._

Grinning like a fool, she opened the grated door.

_Same goes for that merchant once the illusion spell wears off._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

This was not like Kaladil - failing to send a message of his progress. His falcon-letter was well past overdue.

Ondolemar held his hands stiffly behind his back. His face was neutral as he paced the room.

_I could always trust Kaladil to report on time._ _And, out of my newest recruits, Larethorin and Quarrennen were the most responsible._

_They should have reported._

He stopped in front of the central table of the room. The map table.

_Something has likely **happened.**_

He stared at the little red and blue flags in front of him. Traced the path the justiciars were assigned to follow.

_Just as it had with Sanyon, Undrim, Athmir, and Taniel._

_This makes the fifth patrol to be lost in the past year._

He clenched his teeth._ Unacceptable._

A door opened and closed nearby, and Ondolemar calmed himself. Smoothing over his face until it was perfectly blank.

He needed to alert Elenwen. _Surely she will give her approval for extermination patrols along the most heavily-traveled roads._

_We have been passive long enough in this land of dishonorable goblins._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Nivene was feeling quite proud of herself. She had tracked down some of Niruin's old buddies, found a couple old letters, and snuck her way to Skyrim. Right out from under the noses of her mother and father.

They didn't really expect her to sit **still** while her brother was off **doing** things, did they?

Shaking her head, she continued climbing.

She had made good time sneaking past the beggars and lowlifes of the slums. _Though that one fellow with the bow kept me cornered for longer than I'd like. Niruin doesn't need to hear about that._ She pulled herself onto the ledge and packed away her hand wrappings. She could wash them later.

She stared at the lever to her right in confusion.

_Seriously, how is a raised wooden bridge supposed to discourage people? It's like a sign saying 'something is up here!' Anyone determined enough could have climbed the ledge - how is it supposed to keep people out? _

She snuck her way to the door. A quick peek through a crack showed that Niruin was nowhere in sight.

_All clear._

She pulled out a thick bottle - the glass was milky with age and use, but she had bought the potion from a trusted family friend. And with real money.

That she had found through various means, of course.

She shook the potion._ It should last long enough._

_Now for a short detour._

She snuck over to the nearest occupied room - where a woman in rags sat inside, muttering to herself. She was talking about cheese and cabbages, but all Nivene could see was a molded bread crust.

One step in the room. Nivene tossed her uneaten sweetroll over to the woman.

"Hello, would you mind opening the door over there for me?"

The woman didn't respond, only picked up her moldy bread and took a large bite, still mumbling at the empty space ahead of her. Nivene winced. _Ick. She has no teeth._

She tried again. "...Hello?"

The woman stopped eating. Looked directly at her. Then lunged.

**"It's rude to interrupt conversations!"**

Nivene scrambled backward, fumbling with the bottle. She sprinted away with the woman hot on her heels. Eyes wide, she readied her potion. She was thankfully faster than the woman. _This is still going to be close though. But just wait until I tell Niruin about it!_

A quick turn into the Cistern doorway and she started chugging.

It tasted awful, like desert sand mixed with bug-juice, but she could already see her skin fading from view. The very next moment, the woman rounded the corner, face contorted in rage.

**"You will learn proper manners!" **

The woman slammed into the Cistern door and fumbled with the handle. Nivene froze. They were only a few feet apart, and she could smell the woman's stench.

The woman froze too, and turned in place. She stared directly at where Nivene stood. But she did nothing.

Nivene glanced down to see that her armor wasn't completely invisible yet - if she moved, there were changes in the disguise. They were subtle, but they were there. The woman was dead silent as she stared.

But then she grinned. And started cackling.

And, still laughing, the woman kicked open the door to the Cistern and ran away into the sewers, leaving Nivene alone with her half-petrified heart. A shout of alarm went off from inside the Cistern.

_I need to move quickly_.

Still shaking, the bosmer finished the rest of the potion.

Nivene pocketed the bottle and slipped through the doorway. Her first order of business was to - carefully - make her way to the edge of the Cistern, where she could hang onto the stonework without disturbing the water. She latched onto the wall, watching from her perch as a bulky Imperial approached. _That must be Dirge, the Guild bouncer._ He slammed the door shut with a scowl before stalking back to the wooden deck, muttering to himself and utterly disregarding the area where she was hiding.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Nivene began the long process of inching her way around to the Ragged Flagon proper.

* * *

A half-hour later and she finally had room to breathe.

She had made it.

It wasn't a glorious hiding spot, but wedged between large barrels was about as good as she could get for the time being. She'd have to drink another invisibility potion to get to a better location. She kept as still as possible as she shifted, only moving to rifle through her bags and pockets.

Then an arm dropped into view - right on top of one of the barrels she was hiding under. It was a fellow bosmer, but not Niruin. She cursed her luck.

"Care to explain yourself?"

It was said calmly, but that wasn't fooling her. She would be in deep trouble if he decided to kick her out of the Cistern.

She fumbled and nearly dropped the bottle in her hand. It was a muffling potion - not the one she needed. She cringed and looked up.

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Waiting for someone." His eyes narrowed. _But he hasn't given away my hiding spot to the bouncers yet._

"Yes. ...It was going to be a surprise?"

He was silent. Suspicious. She stopped rifling through her pouches.

"Do you know... my brother? Niruin?"

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Excuse me, miss Valwe?"

The altmer narrowed her eyes slighty. "Where did you learn my name?"

Kaladil pressed on.

"Miss Valwe, I have need of one of your horses. I am on urgent business that must be taken care of." He couldn't stop himself from coughing roughly.

She opened the door further. "Urgent business where?"

"It is regarding dangerous militants east of here."

An eyebrow rose. "You mean the rebels. Yes, I already know about them."

And she wasn't arming herself?! Or concerned at the threat of war?!

"No, you obviously don't understand how dangerous they are. The humans are wild and attack without provocation! The Aldmeri Dominion-"

The altmer held up her hand. "Let me stop you right there."

Something had changed - she was glaring at him from her porch.

"Leave my land. I am not going to give you any horse of mine - they are worth far more to me than your empty promises and lies. Go. Be on your way."

He sputtered.

"Ah yes, and you would do well to call me by my full name - Valwe Loreius."

* * *

After night fell, he found a suitable horse and left, riding away in silence.

That... Shrew! She had ignored that it was of the utmost importance that he deliver his news to Ondolemar, and as soon as possible. She had not even let him finish talking! All the farmers had barred him entry except her. But none had evicted him so jarringly.

He rode on, looking back at the small hut only once.

Her refusal could be overlooked considering her... donation, of sorts.

Kaladil nudged his new horse onward.

He was already far too late.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Niruin shifted in her new -and improved!- hiding space.

There were more voices outside in the Cistern, but she could recognize her brother's anywhere. He was getting closer. She shifted in the crate that she was hidden inside. _Heh. The perks of being short._

_And meeting a willing accomplice. I need to thank Corinnir again when this is all over._

"Do you want me to tell you exactly what I think?"

"Well, yes! Please!" _Ooh, Niruin's excited! And saying please! And mother and father aren't here to hear it - the horror!_

"I think that if Brynjolf catches wind of it, he'll boot you right out of here... so drop it already!"

_Sounds interesting... And they're finally close enough._

She made her dramatic entrance, popping out of her spot beneath the bar. She leaned over the edge as casually as she could and grinned. "So, what trouble are you up to now, Niruin?"

Her grin widened at their reactions.

The Imperial walking with him had jumped, but her brother's face was **priceless**.

She wished she knew how to paint - then she could record it for eternity. Show it to her little cousins, too.

Niruin sputtered, eyes wide, making a few aborted motions with his hands. He got himself under control, but couldn't quite get rid of his shocked appearance.

She considered for a moment. _He looks rather pale, actually. _

"Is something wrong, brother?"

At that, she noticed the imperial relax and - did he just smirk? At Niruin?

_What does he know that I don't?!_

She glared at Niruin. "Is there something here that I should know?"

It was the imperial that stepped forward first.

"Well, actually-"

Niruin, suddenly more alert, lunged forward, grabbing his... friend? _Are they friends? Is this what friends do in Skyrim? _

She blinked suspiciously at the two as Niruin got the imperial in a headlock. He was whispering something, then the imperial was whispering back. But she couldn't hear anything being said!

Then, just as quickly as it had started, Niruin was standing upright, side to side with the -now grinning- imperial.

She raised an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

"Yes, we were discussing one of Niruin's newest business plans." Her brother paled even more. She nodded for the imperial to go on.

"Training younger members of the guild in archery, of course. He's been **very** excited about all our new recruits, especially since we've been building up a name for ourselves again." Her brother nodded weakly.

_This still smells fishy._

She gave her brother a **look** before turning back to the imperial, smiling sweetly. "That sounds lovely, but can someone point me to the guild leader? I'd like to join."

The imperial grinned while Nivene spared a quick glance around the rest of the Cistern.

Dirge was tomato-red and glaring, the man behind the counter -_Delvin_\- was watching her warily, and the woman in the corner -_was it Vex or Sapphire?_\- was staring, slowly sheathing her daggers. A few shady characters were ignoring the whole affair, but she saw that Corinnir was grinning at her from the front of the Cistern.

_I'm **definitely** thanking him later._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Hey Cap'n? You think we'll ever make it back?"

The man stared into the dimming light.

"Yes, we only need to follow our orders... So get to it."

A quick nod. "Aye aye. I'll be off then, sir."

After the young man - _barely more than a boy, _his mind supplied - left, he turned back to the horizon.

The breeze was like an icy dagger to his loose clothes, and the ocean was darker than he had ever seen. The waters were angry and frothing. He had seen long shapes drifting in the deep, and there were no birds in sight. There was evidence everywhere that this place was unnatural.

The captain held his hand up to his heart and, with only a slight moistening of his eyes, began to pray.

Hell was far colder than he had expected.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"I don't understand it! Urag won't leave me **alone**! I used to be able to read peacefully in the Arcanaeum, but now he suddenly notices me whenever I so much as **breathe** in the same room as him! I have not done anything! Why do you think-" He gestured behind him in exasperation as his companion hummed along, her robes floating over the courtyard snow.

Orthorn sighed. He simply had no idea what he had done to alarm Urag! It couldn't have been his newfound connections among his peers - the college professors were always encouraging teamwork. Or at least most of them were. The outlier, Arniel, had always been a bit **off** anyway.

But either way, he was learning so much - she was amazing at conjuration and willing to give less-experienced students hints and demonstrations outside of classes. The others down there were all so incredibly talented and helpful - it made him feel less like the useless novice he'd been all through childhood.

He frowned at the snow.

His camaraderie with the other students couldn't be the issue.

_But why has Urag become so paranoid all of the sudden?_


	24. Boats and Spells and Pirates, Oh My!

**Chapter Twenty-Four: ****Boats and Spells and Pirates, Oh My!**

* * *

**25th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Turdas**

* * *

She breathed out slowly, then released the spell.

Closing her eyes made no difference in the dark.

* * *

Time passed, and Evelyn was still awake. She had already counted three-hundred and twenty imaginary sheep and was desperately trying to ignore her nausea as the ship sailed onward. The only problem was that it was getting worse.

She gasped as she felt the floor tilt sideways - her stomach was most definitely not happy with being cooped up in the spazzing box that was the Sea Squall.

_So much for sleeping in._

Still swaying in the hammock, she opened her eyes. Evelyn blinked in the darkness. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and, after a flick of her wrist, lit up the room with a candlelight spell. The room was filled with a soft glow and shadows danced on the walls with every creak of the ship. Cradling the miniature star in her hand, she kept her breathing slow and quiet and stuck a leg out, hoping to catch the floor.

After half a dozen tries and two stubbed toes, she managed to roll out of her hammock. None of the sailors stirred, her muffled tirade about 'what beds were and weren't supposed to do' drowned out by the sound of the creaking ship and the crashing waves. She breathed out softly.

_I'll count it as a success._

She stubbed another toe while pulling her college gear on and hissed. Still no movement, and the little light was still going strong.

With a quick glare at her feet, she stumbled to the door. She kept one hand held out to keep a death grip on the wall as the floor shifted underneath her feet.

The moment her hand touched the doorknob, however, her candlelight spell fizzled and died, leaving the ladder under the trap-door just barely visible in the dim lantern-light. She grimaced and moved forward, waiting out rough patches of waves whenever they hit.

Maneuvering her way up the swaying ladder took far longer than she would ever admit. But thankfully the light from Masser and Secunda was enough to avoid tripping on loose rope and crates once she finally made it onto the deck.

A quick glance around showed someone working the sails, another person messing with the storage barrel lashings, and a third figure standing silently at the bow.

_My money is on the thalmor being the brooder._

Her lips twitched upward.

_He must start early - there isn't even a hint of sunlight._

And with that thought, she was back to frowning.

_...It's probably best to avoid thinking about how long it'll be until dawn. It's either stupidly late or stupidly early._

She checked the moons' heights.

_Stupidly early it is._

She closed the hatch softly behind her and shuffled to her corner of the deck, settling down for the long wait until dawn. There was only the slow crawl of the moons above her to show the passage of time.

* * *

Masser had nearly reached the far horizon when the sky began lightening.

Rich purples and blues soon replaced the inky mirror of the ocean water, and the breeze grew stronger. At one point, a gust of wind showered icy seaspray onto the deck, pushing her from just cold to cold **and** wet.

With a shiver, she pulled her legs closer and huddled into the solid railing, keeping her chin down to conserve warmth. She took a slow breath. The thalmor - she was now almost certain it was the thalmor - was as unmoving and stiff as always, the sailor working the sails was leaning against the mast, and the other sailor was out of sight.

_Maybe he went in to get some sleep?_

She turned back to the sea, watching the inky waves as they rolled by. Then she stared as each of her breaths were blown away into nothingness. She leaned her head backward and sighed. There were more stars above her than she had ever seen before - they shimmered in the calm darkness of the sky.

They looked a little bit like a tiny version of her candlelight spell. Another exhale. Were these stars like the ones back where she came from? Giant burning balls of gas, drifting through empty space, lightyears apart from each other? Or were they portals to Aetherius, like some mages speculated?

Would she ever know? Would anyone?

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.

Then she let out a stiff breath. She had work to do, after all.

_There isn't any way for me to find out for certain. As far as any pre-space-age civilization goes, a star is a star is a star. Useful for navigation, calendars, and horoscopes. _

Evelyn peeked her eyes open.

_I may as well try to think about the things that I **can** figure out - or find something to do with myself until we reach port. Preferably something productive._

She tapped out a half-forgotten beat on the side railing.

_Well... I finished sorting yesterday and my notes are stashed somewhere on this ship. And, my magic only works when it is crazy late at night because this ship is too tiny to have empty rooms. At least with Gjolrik, I could practice inside my igloo. _

_If Sergius was up, then I could ask him about enchanting. But no. Thanks to the thalmor, Sergius is **still** half-blue and won't leave the room._

She glared at the thalmor's back. Then sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking down at the waves.

She looked back at the thalmor.

Her shoulders slumped as she took a deep breath.

She had an idea.

A horrible, terrible, no-good, this-could-very-likely-end-in-social-suicide idea.

_But it's either this, or sit and do nothing._

She grinned a little to herself. It was a plan and it could work.

_No one else is available. Captain Wayfinder might be awake, but he isn't a mage. That one imperial all but oozed small talk during the portion of the dinner that I was there, so he will forever be a no go for conversations. And the sailors are in the same boat as Wayfinder in that they'd be terrible for mage-questions. I haven't seen the castaway since he got here, even if he might be awake. And Sergius still refuses to come out into public. Which leaves me with only the thalmor._

The drumming on the railing grew faster.

_He is a mage and is very likely to be older than Sergius (and so more experience as a mage). I saved his life - no matter how much he may be in denial - so the least he can do is humor me a little bit. And, best of all - he is already awake and standing right in front of me. No need to wake sleeping bears!_

He also owed her for taking her other source of information, Sergius, out of commission, but she wouldn't bring that up.

After a brief pause, she nodded to herself.

_Here goes nothing..._

She rolled to her feet and, after a quick mental assertion that _yes, I am really going to go poke a brooding thalmor_, shuffled her way to the bow of the ship. Before she could think about a mission abort, she plopped herself down right next to the thalmor. No going back.

She opened her mouth, but then paused. In her haste to avoid second thoughts, she had forgotten something rather important.

_Wait. What am I going to ask him?_

Her mouth shut.

She spared a second for a sideways glance.

The thalmor, thankfully, hadn't budged an inch since she arrived. She let out her breath as languidly as she dared.

_Quick! Is there anything that I could learn from a thalmor? What would he know?_

Her eyes narrowed.

_I doubt that he will explain anything about Sergius partially turning blue - though my guess is a messed up spell. Let's see... The thalmor, from what I can remember, use shock spells, apprentice-level restoration spells, and can conjure atronachs. Ancano uses a paralysis spell at the end of the college questline, but that might be a Magnus thing rather than an Ancano thing. _

She leaned forward, her head just barely high enough to see over the railing, and slouched.

_But why would he even answer a question of mine? If I bring it up directly, the "I saved your life so you owe me" argument is more likely to end with me getting punted off the ship "accidentally" than succeeding - stupid paranoid thalmor. He'd probably think that it was a blackmail attempt. _

_So in order to get answers, I'd need to appeal to his sense of superiority without overdoing it. _

_Or... Set a challenge where his pride will force him to answer?_

She narrowed her eyes, smirking.

_Yes. I like that idea. So I've got-_

"Is there any specific reason why you are here?"

She blinked and looked at the thalmor. His voice sounded nearly as stiff and cold as he looked.

Evelyn kept her face blank as if she was still processing the question, but inside her mind, she floundered. Did she have any questions ready? No, she did not. But she couldn't ignore the thalmor.

_I need to stall for time._

_Tell the truth, but as confusingly as possible?_

_It's worth a shot, at least._

She waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh no, not really. I was just getting out of the cabin." She kept her voice light and unconcerned - like this entire pirates situation was a walk in the metaphorical park - "This ship is just reminding me a bit too much of a rather traumatic cart ride I had a while back." A brief pause before she added on more. "I like keeping my lunch, thank you very much, and Guthrum said fresh air helps with that, so I came to the front."

There was silence.

_Success! And now to figure out what to ask._

_"Why was he wandering around in the middle of Stormcloak territory?" No - The question is too likely to involve sensitive information._

_"Why do I black out every time I try to tell people about where I came from?" No - I don't want to black out on a ship in the middle of an ice-cold ocean._

_"Why can't I use magic in front of people?" Possibly, but I'll likely be blacklisted from further conversations as a delusional weirdo._

She looked sideways to see the altmer staring at her, frowning. She quirked her head to the side as if in confusion as she ran through all her options.

_What about my research? That could work! The Falmer were elves and the Thalmor take pride in their elf-ness._

"Well, since you're out here, do you know anything about the culture of the falmer? I've been doing some research but I hit a wall. Do you, perchance, have any or know of someone with information on them?"

"No. ...Is there any reason why are you researching the falmer?"

It was her turn to frown at him. And channel her inner Colette.

"What do you mean? The falmer are a perfectly valid field of research."

The thalmor blinked, looking genuinely confused.

"Do you not have a school of magic to research?"

She tried not to twitch as she winced inwardly. _And here we are at the topic I wanted to avoid._

"Hmm... I would study a school of magic..." _may as well rip off the band-aid now. _"...if I was able to reliably cast spells. But, of course, seeing that I can't, I've stuck with the Falmer."

She paused and sniffed as if she was insulted.

"Not that the Falmer are a bad research topic, but I'll admit that the schools of destruction and alteration are much more popular with the mainstream crowd. I, personally, would lean more towards conjuration and illusion if I had the chance. Maybe dabble in alteration, too."

The thalmor was still quiet, so she mumbled a few more comments on her -negative- opinions on the spell distribution amongst the schools before trailing off.

Which of the schools was most likely the cause for her getting dropped in Skyrim? Or was it more than one?

The most-likely theories she had were that she had been brought here using some kind of portal - conjuration - or that all of this was some kind of elaborate illusion. Alteration could be helping it all seem real.

_Or maybe my life before now was an illusion? _

Her eyes narrowed at the horizon.

_No. I had a life on Earth. And now I'm stranded in this "Nirn" until I can find a way back._

_Unless Nirn is reality and I've been tricked into believing Earth was real, I shouldn't be here. _

_At the very least, I know things that could utterly wreck the timeline. The future is malleable and I'm lucky to have avoided the Dragonborn for so long. Wherever they are, they are progressing the story at its proper pace and making sure to-_

"What."

The thalmor had spoken, though not very intelligibly.

She looked at him sideways, waiting.

He took a deep breath. Then let it out slowly.

"You cannot use magic?"

She frowned.

_I didn't say that I can't use magic at all. But effectively..._

"Well... Sort of. The spells I cast - or at least try to cast - get stage fright."

His eyes narrowed, disbelieving, so she rubbed her hands together to warm them.

"See? Watch."

Once her fingers were loose enough, she began. She took the time to go through every minuscule step of casting the candlelight spell, complete with the slowed-down finger counts that the spell tome recommended for novice casters.

Nothing happened.

She raised an eyebrow at the thalmor and then went through the normal casting version that she had worked her way up to. A flick of the wrist and still no sign of a light anywhere.

"See?"

Just for giggles, she decided to try out the fast version - a fancy snap - that she hadn't quite gotten to work reliably. She was positioning her fingers when the thalmor shook his head.

"Stop. What in Oblivion are you trying to cast?"

"Eh? That was candlelight. Or at least the novice and apprentice level versions of it."

It was silent on the boat for a few seconds, but then the thalmor shifted. He huffed out an indignant breath.

"They are teaching you incorrectly. It is unsurprising that your spells are not working if **that** is the kind of education you receive at Winterhold."

She blinked. Then tilted her head sideways as she thought.

_What? There is another way to cast candlelight? A thalmor-endorsed version? Does that mean that there are other ways for all the other spells too?_

"How is candlelight **supposed** to be cast, then?"

The thalmor's eyes narrowed.

_Come on - it's just a candlelight spell. What am I going to do with it? Blind my enemies and trip them off conveniently placed cliffs? _

The thalmor's eye twitched and he turned away, and she had to stop herself from sighing in disappointment.

_Too much, too soon._

She took a deep breath, the cold air near-freezing in her lungs for a few seconds.

_His version probably wouldn't have worked for me either._

An exhale. She watched the steam from her breath as it drifted away.

Then the thalmor spoke.

"Waving one's hands around does nothing for a spell's casting." He paused briefly, then muttered something under his breath. Immediately, a bright light materialized in his hands. It floated upward, stopping just above his head.

"You must know the words behind each spell - the formula - before you can hope to properly cast them."

She froze, staring at the light. It seemed slightly... off... for some reason. Paler, more uniform, and less of a tiny sun and more of a minuscule pinprick of focused light. Very sharp looking, but it didn't have as much variation in the brightness as her version of candlelight.

_Maybe it's because I'm casting it wrong? Or are they different spells?_

She narrowed her eyes at the light.

"How is it so focused? Mine is more of a ball that changes in brightness occasionally. Sometimes the color changes, too."

_'Cause there is nothing quite like giving yourself a heart attack by casting candlelight while dead-tired and getting a creepy red light. That thing looked like a magical firebomb. I was worried that I had accidentally mixed candlelight up with the heating spell until it changed back to blue-ish white after a few seconds._

She hummed in curiosity.

_And mine doesn't float so much as sit in my hand like an omnidirectional flashlight._

"It is likely the unfocused nature of the casting disrupting the spell. With the proper voiced formula, the light will coalesce into a point of pure energy."

The thalmor squinted upward into the light and then turned back toward her. He held a hand out toward the waves. This time, he didn't bother with the mumbling.

"Varla-"

She mentally scrambled to be ready. _Crap! I need to memorize this! _

"-an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy."

_'Sil __fanacas __siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy.' I remember that much at least._

The other candlelight fizzled out of existence and a new light appeared above his hand. It drifted above his head, making its way back over to where the previous light had floated.

_Sil __fanacas __siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy. ...But what was the first sentence again?_

"The spell instructs one of the lesser Magna Ge to bring back a light from Aetherius, orders the light to brighten and shine with white light, and then tells it to stay and serve. It is the simplest of the incantations for candlelight, possible for even novices to complete successfully."

She ignored the characteristic 'thalmor snooty tone of superiority' in favor of memorizing.

_...Sil __fanacas __siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy._

"What was the first sentence again?"

The thalmor looked at her from the corner of his eye. She thought she saw an eye twitch.

"Varla caraeloy silu an."

_Ok. Varla caraeloy silu an. __And now to practice it all together._

She didn't blink twice when the thalmor silently excused himself. She'd let him brood in peace if he wanted to.

It took her a few minutes before realizing she had effectively ousted him from his brooding spot.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon by the time she felt ready to try casting candlelight verbally.

She held out a hand, taking a deep breath.

"Varla caraeloy silu an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy."

A moment. Then two. She exhaled.

Nothing happened.

She repeated the phrase while imagining the meaning behind the words as she cast, but no light came. She tried both versions of the casting together and, yet again, nothing happened.

Well, actually, a passing sailor asked if she was alright, but she was able to wave him off.

Eyes narrowed, she huffed and decided to wait until nightfall before trying to cast anything. If past experiences were anything to work off of, the spell would work perfectly fine the instant no one was watching.

_Maybe I could camp out in the castaway's rowboat in the back? I remember that it was built much nicer than I had expected - even sturdier than the Sea Squall... for some strange reason. Though the Sea Squall didn't look the best when in port with the other ships, either._

The floor beneath her lurched over a wave and she grimaced, and after another, she was mentally signing her last will and testament. The calm waters had been nice while they lasted, at least.

_I don't care about whatever deal Sergius made, I am never getting back on this ship. Ever._

She glared at the waves below her.

It was only by chance that she looked up toward the red sunrise. There were dots on the horizon - too far away to make out. As she was squinting, she heard a curse from above. She frowned.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The castaway sat limply on a hammock, nursing a mug. He nodded.

"Yessir, all I want is to go home - to my wife and kids, that is."

Captain Wayfinder sipped his mead. "Think the war is a waste of time, do you?"

The castaway shook his head. "I don't know much about that, but I think I'd need to consult my wife, sir, before I do any other vanishing acts like this one. No matter how noble the cause."

Wayfinder grinned and raised a filled mug. "Aye, I can relate to that."

The castaway looked cautiously up to the captain.

"**You** have a wife?"

A quick laugh.

"Not yet, I don't. But I have experience with the type. Back when I was a lad, my mother was the jarl of the boat. What she said went, and woe to anyone who thought they could order her around when she had her trusty axe on hand."

"What was she like?"

"A whirlwind of a woman - you were caught sneaking about? You might find yourself anywhere from the kitchen scrubbing mugs and plates, to climbing the ship sides during winter to scrape off barnacles." He took a deep sip from his mug, a wistful smile on his face. "Too 'instill a proper sense of duty' she'd always say. Strict, my mother was, but I loved her all the same."

The castaway took a sip of his own with a wry smile.

"Sounds like your mother was one hell of a woman."

"Aye."

As he was tipping his head back for another sip, Wayfinder heard shouting from above. Feet thudding around on deck.

"Captain! Captain Wayfinder!"

A man burst into the cabin, red hair blown wild by the wind.

"Sails! There are sails on the horizon - all I could make out was that they're flying a black flag!"

"How many?"

"At least two."

The only sound was that of the waves on the ship's hull and the dim shouting amongst the crew. The captain stood to his full height.

"Double-check our heading and get the men up for extended shifts - Guthrum, notify our passengers."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

**Translation notes:** courtesy of "Hrafnir's languages - Nordic" in the imperial library. That page is awesome, friends. A quick and simple translation of the Aldmeris incantation:

"Varla caraeloy silu an. Sil fanacas siloy. Sil miscoy. Hilyoy"

"Star, go and bring back a new light! White light, shine and brighten and gleam! Light, shine! Follow and serve!"


	25. Between Two Rocks and a Hard Place

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Between Two Rocks and a Hard Place**

* * *

_**WARNING: there is gore in this chapter toward the end. **_

* * *

The sun was nearly above the horizon by the time everyone had made it onto the deck. A few sailors were already grimacing at the ships trailing behind them. The Sea Squall had been steered to sail as directly away from the pirates as possible while still aiming for Solitude, at the cost of heading straight toward a known shallow area, if what she heard was to be believed. A grumble from one of the sailors to her left about dangerous low tides was not comforting, either. Especially when paired with the sight of a wizened old nord gripping an amulet of Talos with white knuckles.

She shivered and followed his line of sight to the pirate ships. They were tiny white dots - almost invisible next to the glare from the rising sun. The floor lurched beneath her.

_I want off this ship. Pronto._

She shifted back to watching Wayfinder's speech.

According to him, and in contrast with just about everyone else's expressions, everything would work out perfectly fine. The pirates were too far away to cause any trouble - almost out of sight, really - and they wouldn't be getting any closer so long as the Sea Squall was able to do the boat equivalent of putting the pedal to the metal.

He said it with much more bravado and poetic spirit than her mental summary, of course, but it was quite inefficient time-wise, in her humble opinion. The sun was completely risen by the time he finished. Evelyn rubbed her hands together to keep warm. _Probably best to plan for the worst._ _Goodness knows that weird things have decided to start happening to me for some reason. _

She shook away thoughts of what she might have been doing now if she had decided to stay in Falkreath or Whiterun.

_Reading or herb gathering?_

Or if she was back home where everything made sense. A glance above her to the red sky and recently-risen sun.

_Maybe sleeping?_

With a huff, she turned back to Wayfinder's motivational speech. None of it was lightening the sailors' moods. She tuned out the talk and reviewed her situation.

Stuck on a boat until it reaches Solitude or is caught by pirates, with a captain who insists that it will all be fine.

_Who's he to say that the pirates won't catch the Sea Squall like they did the castaway's ship?_

She tilted her head in thought.

_But... who can say that the pirates will catch us?_

_If we're following the plot of the game, then those ships aren't likely to be** that** bad of news. Sergius was alive for the College of Winterhold quests, and Wayfinder and company were alive to lose the fancy void salts they were paid... Maybe this is where the void salts are stolen?_

She heard a call from Wayfinder. Probably giving directions to the sailors.

_It wouldn't make sense if this is where the salts were stolen. If I remember correctly, the quest blames it on foolish sailors, not theft on the high seas..._

Another shout.

She looked up to see Sergius, the castaway, and the thalmor being escorted below deck. Was she supposed to be joining them?

_Probably._

She rolled to her feet, shuffling to catch up.

* * *

Evelyn was escorted below-deck with Sergius and the Thalmor. They were led to Sergius' room and she, after a quick shrug, decided that she may as well socialize. Maybe ask Sergius a question or two, since he couldn't hide anymore.

After grabbing her bag, of course.

She caught the door just as it was closing and slipped into the room. There were barrels and hammocks everywhere, as well as a few thoroughly worn playing cards. She blinked at an ace of hearts stuck on the inside of the door - it had been impaled by a dagger.

Ignoring the castaway and thalmor, she nabbed an empty hammock between Sergius and the door. She pulled herself up completely and settled into her new perch.

Off in his corner, Sergius huffed to himself and pulled out a bottle of Black-Briar mead, leaning into his chair. He took a deep sip and sighed.

She shifted in her hammock.

"So..." All eyes were on her. She adjusted the hammock.

"Any plans on what to do while we're stuck down here?"

There was no response from any of the others.

She twitched in the hammock as the boat swayed. Then let out a long breath and leaned backward.

A quick glance around the room showed the Thalmor brooding and Sergius setting up a game of cards with the castaway. Both mages were studiously ignoring her.

_Maybe I could sort through the trinkets again? Make sure that they're all there? _

Another twitch as the boat rocked.

She sighed and pulled out one of the necklaces. It was either a simple silver locket that she hadn't been able to open yet, or a normal silver necklace that she would break someday in the name of science. It was inevitable. She needed to know if there was something inside of it or if it was just hollow, and so she would open it.

Someday.

She **would** make it off this ship.

She swallowed and picked at the rim of the necklace, forcing herself to relax into the hammock.

_What would a necromancer even put in a locket? A lock of hair from a dead loved one that they want to bring back?_ Pick. Pick.

_A poem that they want to remember? The world's smallest spell scroll? Is it something that I could use to defend myself? _Her fingernail found a crease. She wiggled her finger, trying to lever the crease open. She took slow breaths. _It probably isn't anything. _

Pick. Pick.

_But what if it is? Could it-_

Her hand slipped and she dropped the necklace. Scowling, she picked it back up, staring at where she could have sworn was where the crease had been. She sighed.

There was still no visible sign of an opening mechanism.

_If nothing else, I could sell the silver in the necklace to a blacksmith._

After slipping the necklace back into the bag, she reached for the flute.

_Yes, I'll go talk to a blacksmith about the necklace after we get to Solitude._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

There were confident shouts above them, intermittent between the thunder and winds from outside. Evelyn hoped it would last.

"They're reefing their sails! Captain, what should we do?"

Evelyn huddled further into the hammock.

"We sail on." She could **hear** the captain grinning over the sea spraying up around him. "The Sea Squall has dealt with worse weather before! The pirates just cut their speed - it'll give us more time. We can gain distance on them! Olgram, you need-"

The next sentence was cut off by thunder and crashing waves.

She hugged her bag of trinkets and asked whichever daedra was in charge of this madness to cut it out, she hadn't brought any cheese or string.

The others were more concerned with keeping their cards from sliding than trying to parse her mumbles.

* * *

The tones of the voices above deck grew more taught as the storm grew wilder. Gale-force winds were near-constant now. Evelyn caught a snippet of conversation and paled.

"The winds are too strong! We need to reef the sails!"

A great crash of a wave above her. The ship stopped rocking and started listing.

"Are you volunteering yourself?! **I'm** not going up there in this weather!"

"But what if-" Thunder shook her eardrums. The wind was blowing the ship** sideways** now.

"-It's too late for that!"

Then Murphy's Law finally caught up to them all.

She heard a resounding CRACK, audible over the wind and waves and thunder alike.

Then the ship sagged deeper, forcing her to hold onto the hammock for dear life as the floor went sideways. Unlike all the times beforehand, though, the ship went deeper.

It didn't roll back upward. It stayed angled, nearly sideways, as everyone in the room floundered about for a good handhold. She paled at the visible tilt of the room.

_If the ship tips any further, we'll be walking on the walls. _

Swallowing tightly, she stared wide-eyed and frozen as seawater came in through the closed doorway. Curses echoed in the small cabin.

It wasn't a flood, but it wasn't a mere trickle either.

She looked behind her. Sergius was pushing broken wood off of himself. A little to the left, the castaway was trying to pull himself out of a pile of sacks. The thalmor was leaning against the wall at the far end of the room, standing in a growing pool of water. The deck of cards was already soaked. She shook her head and pulled her attention back to the doorway. Water was still leaking through, but not enough to indicate sinking.

Her grip on the hammock tightened as the ship shook and lurched, but didn't right itself.

Then the boat listed even further, and shouts and another loud thump came from above. She blinked.

If the ship was going down, she wanted **out**. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to shout over the noise from above them with her throat as tight as it was, but adrenaline catapulted her into action. She waved Sergius down and nodded toward the trap door. The water streaming through was dark and frothy. He nodded back. As the closest one to the door, courtesy of the hammock, she'd go out first. She gathered her bag and crawled up the floor, mentally cursing as her fingers went numb in the freezing seawater.

She reached the top and, after a brief warning, opened the door. The force from a small tubful of water suddenly falling into the room dragged her back a few slippery feet, but she held on. Her fingers were freezing, her clothes were soaked, and she was shivering, but she still needed to move.

_Yes. It is high time to get out of this death trap._

She dragged herself out and crouched down between the floor and hallway wall, leaning on the floor - now a wall of sorts - for balance.

Scuttling forward, she heard Sergius' curses as he pulled himself out of the room. The ship shuddered beneath her just as the castaway cleared the doorway, and she felt the ship dropping downward.

A wave crashed through the trap door opening, spraying the hallway with icy seawater and thoroughly drenching everyone all over again. She edged her way closer to the trapdoor.

There was a loud cry from the deck above her - then the boat surged upward.

Within a moment she was catapulted off the wall and onto the slick floor as the ship righted itself. More curses from behind her - the castaway had a rather vindictive mind if his comments on the parentage of various crew members were serious. She didn't know what half of the words even **meant**. She shook her head and focused on picking herself off the wet floor planks.

There was a brief lull, and then the ship went back to rolling with the waves.

_Was it over?_

Once on her feet, she braced herself inside a nearby doorway, sheltering her bag from the seawater dripping down the walls. A quick glance back to Sergius.

"What do you think happened?"

_Because that noise was definitely **not** normal._

He didn't respond, only walked to the doorway opposite hers, hunkering down.

It was the castaway that made the next move. He leaned into the wall, exhausted, and nodded upward.

"I think the worst of it is over, but the ship has slowed, and the storm is still raging."

_So... we aren't going anywhere anytime soon._

She took a shaky breath and tried to rub the feeling back into her hands.

* * *

Going topside after the storm was a solemn affair.

Though the weather was apparently better than earlier according to the sailors, the wind still nearly blew her off her feet. She was limited to scuttling low to the ground with an arm on the ship at all times. Even keeping her head down, it was easy to see what had caused the earlier issues. The main mast does tend to be one of the more noticeable aspects of a ship. At least, when it's actually **there**.

The Sea Squall had lost over half of its main mast, and the sail was completely gone. She glared at the ocean and dark shadow of the retreating storm. Thanks to them, the Sea Squall was a sitting duck with no legs. With sharks in the water, at that.

She looked behind them, to where the two pirate ships were sailing on. Two ships, one low and long, and the other stouter and taller. They were already close enough for her to see little figures scurrying around their decks. The piratical black flag was waving from the more well-built of the two ships. She could make out a tiny patch of white - the skull and crossbones, most likely - on it.

Captain Wayfinder's orders came by word of mouth. Every able-bodied person was to find a weapon.

* * *

Evelyn picked a broken piece of wood up from the storm debris on deck and started removing the splinters. She wanted a poky stick to threaten the pirates with.

Her stomach had dropped out from beneath her at some point, but she couldn't recall when, exactly. All she knew was that this was **not** what she had planned.

_I was supposed to struggle through seasickness and then never get on a boat again. Finish the fetch quest with Sergius, drop the thalmor off wherever, and get back to the college where everything is comfy cozy in the tower._

She blinked. Then stared out the side toward the incoming ships.

_The pirates are actually going to catch us. Wayfinder was wrong._

She swallowed shakily.

_I was wrong._

She took gulping breaths, walking away from the railing. That way be pirates. She ran a hand through her hair.

_Is there a way out of this?_

Inhale.

_There needs to be a way out of this._

Exhale. She glanced toward the rowboat.

_But... I don't have any supplies and have no idea how to get to land besides 'go south.'_

Another inhale.

_But maybe... Maybe the pirates are going to just rob the boat? Not kill? I can hand over necromancer trinkets and whistle innocently?_

A deeper breath. She looked back toward the approaching pirates. Then frowned.

_I assumed that they wouldn't catch us. And look where we are now. _

A shaky inhale. She snuffed out the hopeful voice in the back of her head and lifted her 'weapon.' A short, splintered stick. She narrowed her eyes at it. She needed to find something better.

Or something to coat it with. Preferably caustic.

Another glance behind the Sea Squall.

The pirate ships were taking down some of their sails, so she had a dozen minutes or so to scramble around for a weapon upgrade. _Probably._ She shivered. _More assumptions on my part._ A quick breath. She looked back at the approaching pirates. There was something weird going on with the larger ship, but she couldn't make out what the pirates were doing just yet.

_Maybe I'll look again when the ship is closer?_

She breathed in deeply, shaking her thoughts away to climb down below deck.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"How much longer?"

"They'll catch us by noon."

"We aren't prepared to fight off boarders! We're merchants! What does Wayfinder expect us to do? Die?"

An older man cut in.

"He expects you to do your job, now get back to it!"

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn was a coward.

She acknowledged it - she was not the person to stand bravely as people ran at her with pointy things.

She was the person that got the hell away from wherever those people were.

But now there was no way to get away. Above deck would be a death trap of fighting. Below deck would be a death trap with no room to run. The mast was gone so climbing was out of question. The ocean was too cold to swim in. The rations on the Sea Squall would eventually run out - the pirate ships were the only functioning sea vessels in sight. Holing up and staying put would only keep them alive for a short while.

There were no options that were safe.

Evelyn forced herself to take a shaky breath. Then exhale.

_The safest place would be..._

She clenched her fists around the -pitiful- little wooden spear.

_The safest place..._

She froze. Then looked over at Sergius, and then Wayfinder.

Named characters.

_Were they set as essential in the games?_

She swallowed and looked toward Sergius.

He was standing near the back with a staff that **shimmered** like an oil spill. It looked dangerous. She shuffled behind the row he was in and huddle to make herself a small target, poking her head up every once in a while to see the pirates' progress.

The pirates were tiny stick figures.

Then they looked like dolls.

Then a few sailors began shooting their bows, and she heard the death cries of the first victims of the fight.

She kept her head down after that, watching as the other ship's masts towered over her. There were pirates hanging from ropes, ready to jump over. The ship was close enough for her to see little blotches of red and holes in the sails.

She slunk further away from the fighting and held her 'spear' out threateningly. Then the chaos began.

She was stuck in a limbo of disbelief as one pirate was bludgeoned to death with a club and a sailor was gutted by a shining sword. The pirates yelled while the sailors shouted battle cries.

Then there were furious shouts - even louder than before - and a pirate broke through. The sailors scrambled madly to keep the other pirates away from their ship, but left her to defend. She gulped. She was not ready.

She would never be ready.

Then she saw that the pirate was followed by the castaway.

He stopped. The castaway pointed.

Then the pirate looked straight at her, his mouth twisted into a grim fury.

And then an axe cleaved through the pirate and he was laying on the deck** leaking** everywhere.

She only saw out of the corner of her eye when an arrow lodged itself between the castaway's shoulderblades and he fell too. He had tried to run away.

Evelyn gagged.

She dashed away from the fighting blindly, stumbling as the ship lurched with the waves.

She reached the other side only to see the other pirate ship. It was sailing in to trap the Sea Squall on two sides.

She gasped a breath. Twisted around to see even more dead and dying bodies. Blasts of spells_** but**** there isn't enough room for clear shots**_. People fighting and yelling and **_that man has no head_**. A turn back to the incoming ship. She held her stick out as a threat and backed away toward the trapdoor. Maybe she could lock it behind her? _But what about Sergius and the thalmor and the others?_ She twitched and continued backing away.

She couldn't focus on what she was hearing over the sound of her half-hysterical thoughts.

She shivered and looked at the pirate ship again. She had a minute before they were close enough to board. She could make it. The pirate ship was taller than the Sea Squall, though. They had to have seen her already-

She shuddered and took another shaky step behind her. The ship in front of her was just like she used to draw in elementary school - multiple masts, lots of rope netting, little portholes for-

Her eyes widened.

She looked closer at the ship.

She turned back toward the sounds of fighting. Everything was muffled. Like they were in another room. It made sense in the worst, most unbelievable way. The shining swords, why every single pirate was a human, why they all looked so **off** and yet so **right **to her.

"Queen Mary's Revenge" was not an Elder Scrolls name for a ship.


	26. Desperation and Pirates

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Desperation and Pirates**

* * *

**Watch out for light gore.**

* * *

Estormo was not happy with the situation - the deck was in chaos and he was surrounded by fools.

The sailors were struggling in combat against the pirates. But what did he expect, really? They followed the orders of a child in a man's body. An idiot who doomed them to this situation through his unrealistic optimism. Numbers did not immediately equal might, and time was often more valuable than both.

If there had been more time, he could have set up runes along the deck.

A blast and another pirate went down, tunic scorched and burning. He scowled.

If there had been more time, he could have summoned a frost atronach.

But there hadn't been more time.

He dodged. Then ducked beneath a man swinging in from above on a rope. a sailor was downed by a wide sword-swing, but at least the man managed to gut his killer before he went down. Two more bodies lying on the deck. He blinked away images of bloody snow.

Estormo charged up a lightning bolt.

The pirate in front of him had a broken arrow shaft sticking out of his side, visibly pale. Estormo shook off memories of other arrows - wraiths in a blizzard - and focused. There was no time for memories now.

The pirate was injured, but still standing. Estormo watched as one hand went to his side, pulling out a bent piece of metal and holding it out shakily. As if it could block any spells. It was a bastardized creation of the Dwemer, no doubt, but what did it do? It wasn't powering up like any stave would, and there were no strings to pull back. Frowning, he readied a lightning bolt. Let the man try to get any closer with his defective chunk of metal, he was prepared to strike first.

The lightning shot out furiously, but Estormo grimaced as his target twisted around the strike.

He had missed the man.

It was only a small comfort that the deck was packed tight enough that even a miss could take out the men behind the pirate.

But still. A miss was a miss.

_Unacceptable._

Sensing movement from his side, Estormo ducked under an incoming sword and shocked the interloper, who collapsed bonelessly. Grimly, he turned to locate his original target. The man was holding the contraption out again.

Estormo was charging up for a finishing lightning bolt when someone gasped behind him.

"Put up a ward! **Now!**"

Running on instinct, he dropped the lightning bolt and cast a ward - wide and powerful enough to stop whichever fool had decided to sneak around him.

Then came the sound of shattering glass and a gasp as his magicka all but disappeared. But it hadn't come from behind.

Estormo staggered, staring at the little dwemer contraption in the pirate's hands. His vision was blurring, but he noted that the piece of metal was smoking - it had broken after the one use.

_Good._ The man was defenseless.

Now all he needed was to recharge his magicka enough for a finishing strike. Or enough to see straight.

He narrowed his eyes and the man glared. But Estormo's hands were tied. His magicka was all but completely gone, and a few weak sparks would not take down this pirate.

He shifted on his feet, looking around for any weapons to use. There was the sword of a dead pirate, abandoned near the railing.

The man across from him shifted a foot forward, unknowingly placing himself between Estormo and the sword. They both scowled.

Estormo moved on and angled himself to keep the man in his sight, still searching out of the corner of his eye. A few arrows were lying on the ground next to a cut bow and there was axe across the deck still lodged in its last victim. He scowled. Both were too far to reach.

Then the man raised a hand to a pocket.

Estormo stiffened and brought up a hand full of sparks, focusing solely on channeling magicka into the spell. The man froze. Estormo moved cautiously - he could charge a bolt up now, but it would come at the cost of essentially hamstringing him for the rest of the battle. _A mage with no mana is no mage at all._ He would not be a walking target if he could prevent it.

The man slowly inched his hand up - _likely believing himself stealthy. _He was moving slow - _slow enough._

Estormo waited. He could feel his magicka and focus trickling back faster than the hand was moving. He waited until the pirate had nearly reached his pocket, and then with a whispered command word his lightning intensified.

The man cursed and dodged toward the barrels. Estormo sneered.

He cast the lightning bolt toward the pirate.

He didn't miss.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn stared from afar. Blinked.

She could see the gun where it had fallen - lying a few feet away from the dead pirate. Her stick may be pitiful, but a **gun**... She could repel pirates from far, **far** away. Another blink. It was also from Earth - it **had** to have come from Earth. Her home.

She shook herself. She needed the gun.

She scanned the fighting in front of her. There were two men wrestling for a blood-soaked axe. Some people lying on the ground. Not moving. _Not dangerous._ She shifted on her feet and took a deep breath in. Looked both ways to be sure.

Then she dashed for the dead man. Dodged the two wrestling on the ground. Slipped behind a glaring pirate.

Only a few more steps and-

She skidded into a pirate.

They both fell down. But she had a goal and she was already moving. She scrambled the last few feet and lunged for the pistol.

The next moment she was up and pointing it at the pirate.

He backed away slowly, eyes wary. She could see his sword lying on the ground behind him.

But then there was an arm around her throat and she was twisting her arm up to shoot and pulling the trigger.

Nothing happened.

And she felt cold wash down her spine as her jumbled mind pieced the issue together.

Of **course** it didn't fire - it was a barrel-fed pistol, after all, and it had already been shot.

The cold feeling intensified and her throat was too tight. She couldn't make any noise above a strangled whisper. How could she have been so **stupid**?-

And then she was being dragged away from the rest of the fighters. Toward the newly arrived ship.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Sergius felt a strange sense of foreboding when his staff ran out of charges again. He only had one more soul gem to use for a refill, after all, and the fighting was too dense to risk a soul trap spell. He could only hope the staff could last until they finished off the dwindling pirate forces.

He started cursing when he heard fighting starting up behind him.

It seemed the other ship had finally arrived with backup for the first attackers. Sergius gritted his teeth and slammed another pirate into the deck with his staff. A quick jab and the man's skull was caved in. Sergius turned toward the newcomers, shouting at the sailors in warning.

They were not done with the pirates yet.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn was thrown against the deck by the pirate. Broken arrow shafts dug into her back. It was difficult to breathe outside of gasps.

The gun was ripped from her hand and tossed away as her arms were forced behind her. One of them twisted awkwardly.

The pirate crouched down and held a sword to her neck. He was going to kill her. She was going to die!-

"Do your damned job, woman!"

She blinked.

_What job?_

"What do you mean, 'what job?!' You know what I'm talking about!"

_Oh, she said that out loud._

Quick little breaths. Breathe in and out.

"Don't play innocent with me, **witch**! Your superior knows!"

Evelyn gulped. What was he talking about?-

She worked up her courage. "What superior?"

The sword cut through skin. Shouts from somewhere behind her head - where she couldn't see. Breathe. _Need to feel behind me-_

"**Witch**. If you're here then that means you met **him**. Made a deal. He said the only reason we were dragged out was to remind you of yours."

"...Who..." Her eyes flickered over the pirate. He looked positively filthy. Unkempt hair and tattered clothes. She shrunk into the deck. "...What said this?"

He glared at her with venom and wild eyes. He pulled back the sword. She took the opportunity to shift her hands a few inches.

"Stop acting like you don't know! I'll kill you if you don't, damn the consequences!"

He was mad. Insane. Unhinged. _All of the above._

She fiddled with the deck beneath her back, grasping desperately for one of the arrows. She only needed one. The pirate seemed to take it as desperate struggling and leaned in closer to her face.

"All you need to do, **witch**, is do. Your God-damned. **Job.**"

She pulled away from the stale breath, but didn't move too far - she could feel an arrow's shaft. It was broken but the arrowhead was still there!-

The pirate continued in a soft, dangerous tone. "Don't make it any harder than it has to be."

She gripped the shaft. Pulled.

The arrow shaft came out, but the arrowhead didn't. It was stuck.

The man leaned in, still talking about deals and promises she had no memory of.

Her breaths grew shorter. She was running out of time. She ran her hand over the deck again and -_there_\- found the arrowhead.

The pirate was pushing the sword closer and she needed to _get away_.

"I haven't made a deal with anyone here!"

He frowned. "Lying is unladylike."

The sword bit in more. "But I guess you're no lady, acting like you belong in this hell."

She could feel a thin line of blood dribble down her neck. The sword hadn't cut deep. Yet.

She twisted her hands around the arrowhead and began wiggling it out. She needed to buy some time. If only her hands could stop shaking.

She glanced up at him with what she hoped was a curious look. "Where are you from?" _America? Europe? Asia?_

There was a brief pause.

Then the pirate smiled a grim smile - the smile of the defeated. "Not here."

The sword cut again. He frowned.

"Sweet talk and denying don't change the fact that you're trapped here until you follow the rules! **We're** trapped here until you learn!"

Controlling her breathing, she blinked. Another tug or two and it would be out. She could feel the arrowhead shifting.

"Yet again - I **don't** know what you're talking about."

His face reddened, twisting into a sneer as he stepped closer. He moved the sword to point it at her neck directly.

"Don't try to bullshit the questions! You were brought here for a reason, he said, and he wants you to pay up! You need to play the part!"

She took a halting breath. Her voice cracked. "Yet again - I haven't made any deals with anyone."

**_There!_** The arrowhead was out. She palmed it and prepared to escape.

"The devil thinks otherwise, and he doesn't like dissent."

She paused as her stomach lurched.

"So you work for the devil?"

He was silent, his face twisting into a grimace. The sword lowered.

She felt her hands grow cold. _A Daedra?_

"Did the devil have horns?" She readied the arrowhead.

The pirate was shaking now - and not with anger. His eyes grew glazed.

"**Please**, just keep your promise." A hollow breath. "He said you promised."

She inched her hand a bit closer. "Did he have four arms?" _Mehrunes Dagon? _"A pet dog?"_ Clavicus Vile? _

Who was it that brought her here to this medieval frozen nightmare?

The pirate blinked down at her, with one arm hidden behind her back, and his eyes narrowed. He made to grab the collar of her robes. She acted. A quick stab at his hand and the sword dropped. He jerked back and she slipped away, kicking his sword nearly over the railing as she went. She stumbled to her feet and backed away on shaky legs as the pirate stood frozen.

She waved the arrowhead around as if it were a spear and not the equivalent of a tiny toothpick of a dagger.

After the moment of disbelief, blood began running out of the pirate's wrist. His face darkened. He opened his mouth once, then twice, then closed it. He lunged for her.

He hadn't even bothered to retrieve the sword.

She was shuffling away when there was a flash of light and ozone. Her hair rose with the leftover static.

The pirate dropped, a sparking scorch mark on the back of his neck, and she looked over to see Sergius leaning on his staff, his face stiff.

"Get over here, novice, Urag will have my head if I forget to bring you back in one piece."

A glance around the deck. The last few pirates were surrounded and she could see someone with a bow preparing to shoot. The pirates had lost. But bodies from both sides still littered the deck.

She shivered and obliged.

_Who, exactly, dragged me here?_

* * *

The clean up was nearly as messy as the fight itself. There was nowhere to put the bodies besides the sea, and the sailors refused to give the pirates an honorable sea burial. So here she was, dragging another mutilated corpse over to the railing, where a sailor - she didn't know any of their **names** \- either hefted the body into the ocean, or set it aside like a friend who was _only sleeping_.

The pirates were food for the ghosts, they said.

They wanted to honor their dead with a sea-pyre, as was the Nord way, they said.

Evelyn shivered and kept her eyes blank. The wind was blowing strongly again. She couldn't feel her fingers.

She just wanted to stop seeing blood everywhere she turned.

_But a devil brought me here, so the blood is fitting._

* * *

The next chore was to transfer all the supplies to the pirate's ship. While the Sea Squall was bloody and maimed, the two pirate ships were still intact, and they needed to reach Solitude. Though with the sudden loss of mouths to feed, the pressure to get off was more psychological than a lack of sufficient rations.

As a result, Captain Wayfinder was losing the Sea Squall and gaining an unnamed pirate ship.

Not the "Queen Mary's Revenge," though. None of the sailors knew what to do with the cannons, and there weren't enough people to man the sails on the ship anyway. And despite her knowledge that the ship was likely more seaworthy than anything any group could build in this medieval-fantasy world, she couldn't bring herself to even consider using it.

The ship was strange and unusual to the sailors. The pirates had been strange and unusual, too. She didn't want to be labeled strange and unusual before she could find an excuse for it.

Evelyn only looked down to avoid tripping as she helped carry crates. There were dark stains on the deck that she didn't want to see any more than necessary.

She could continue the quest to fix things and work her way back to Earth, or drop everything to investigate this - whatever **this** was.

_Follow **my** goals? Or the job that I was never told about?_

* * *

Evelyn mindlessly fiddled with her robes, ignoring the dark stains. She could wash them out later. Or get new clothes entirely. An exhale and she focused back on the choice at hand.

It would have been easier if the new 'quest' wasn't related to daedra.

She could remember the Daedric quests from Skyrim clear enough. Kill hunters or a cursed werewolf, torture a priest to death, and betray countless friends for power. Eat corpses, deal with a madman before discarding him, and run into a disease-infested ruin. Kill to get a dagger for better killing, delve into the mind of a madman, nearly marry a hagraven while drunk, and kill a previous cultist for running away. Most involved killing, betrayal, or sickness of some kind. Occasionally a combination of the three.

...The only relatively decent Daedric quests she could remember were ousting a cowardly orc chief, defeating the Azura's Star hijacker, and clearing a temple of shades.

She looked up to the sky.

She was brought here by something - likely a daedric prince - and she didn't know which one.

But if she thought about it - the meddling involved in her arrival and the pirates' desperation... her situation reeked of the more... dangerous daedra.

The schemers. Ones she didn't want to get involved with. Ever.

She thought back to her dreams in Dawnstar. Nightmares and insane cultists in a tower frozen in time.

_A job for a Daedra rarely ends well for anyone._

_But if they brought me here, they could send me back, right?_


	27. The Other College

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Other College**

* * *

**26th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Fredas**

* * *

At the College of Winterhold, a large blast sounded from beneath the school. Icy dust rose into the air as the bridge shook. Stones fell and crashed to pieces in the waves below.

Another rumble and the people of Winterhold looked up from their chores. The dust gradually settled.

And then all was quiet again.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Evelyn stared blankly out at the horizon, watching smoke drift upward. Soon, the Sea Squall would be nothing more than ash in the ocean. She tilted her head to the side idly, noting that she had forgotten about the gun. Had it been tossed overboard, or gone down with the Sea Squall?

A little piece of Earth, lost before she could appreciate it.

She sighed. All that was left were her earbuds and dead phone. Both were useless. Incapable of doing anything.

Just like her.

She was trapped here and couldn't find a way out. She had plans to fix a few events, but could she, really? She definitely wasn't the Dragonborn.

_Could I even do the job that the Daedra wants?_

Did she **want** to?

The wind blew some seafoam onto the deck. She didn't move even as it soaked her from the waist down.

* * *

_So what do I know..._

_ The mystery Daedra uses blackmail. They likely dragged me here. They can speak directly but are choosing not to. They want me to do a quest for them, but won't say what._

_Do they expect me to decline if I know the job?_

_Do they find it amusing to watch mortals run around in desperation?_

Either case was not a good sign in her book.

She went back to stewing in her thoughts.

* * *

**28th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Sundas, Two days later**

* * *

Evelyn sighed as Solitude came into view. The video games were accurate enough in the general layout but, yet again, the sizes were completely off. At least thirty ships filled the port and there was still plenty of room for more. Dockworkers swarmed over a few of the larger ships, and with Imperial flags flying everywhere, more than a few of the sailors were uneasy.

She was less concerned at the sight of the warships. The Civil war was going to start soon, if it hadn't already, and both sides would be evenly matched enough for a stalemate.

_Solitude won't be close to the fighting until the war is nearly over, and only if the Stormcloaks are going to win._

The most pressing matter in her mind was escaping the ship. She had sorted out exactly where her and Sergius' belongings had been stowed, and made sure that her trinkets were packed and ready to go.

All that was left was getting the ship into port.

She was enthusiastic - if not happy - to help get the ship docked as quickly as possible. Her jobs were mainly to run back and forth grabbing supplies and untie anything she was pointed at.

It was a well-known fact by then that any rope she messed with was liable to come untied, so the sailors decided to use her skills accordingly. Water-clogged knots coated with barnacles were no match for her determination and the little fire poker she had found, nonexistent arm strength be damned. Physics and leverage still existed, and she knew how to use them.

She was going to get off the ship as quickly as humanly possible.

* * *

Her hopes of a swift escape were dashed, however, when a group of imperial soldiers boarded the ship. They needed to check everyone and investigate their cargo, as the new ship didn't match any known incoming traffic - the perils of switching to a pirate ship mid-voyage. Evelyn sighed.

More customs.

_It seems like some things are the same no matter where you are._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Later that day, an altmer walked into a bar.

It was a company-sponsored bar for the East Empire Company's more valuable clients, but a bar nonetheless. And most importantly to Viarmo - it was connected to the general records room. He sidled up to the bookkeeper at the front desk and, with a quick glance to be sure they were alone, pulled out a pouch.

"Hello, officer, would you mind informing me of the 785th record?"

A slide of gold on the counter and the man in east-empire robes nodded. He pulled out a thick book.

"Hmm... The 785th record is of the sinking of the Sea Squall following a pirate attack... If you're looking for the crew, though, they survived and commandeered the pirates' ship, which is the 786th record."

The altmer's eyes sharpened. "And which dock can I find the passengers at?" Another handful of coins made their way across the counter.

The officer shrugged, quickly scooping the coins into his coat. "The passengers?- Not at the docks. The mages were off the ship and out of sight as soon as we finished up customs. The scrawny one in particular was quite eager to run and rent a horse-drawn cart for their gear. They're long gone, but I might be able to remember where they went..."

The man trailed off, expecting another handful of coin. Viarmo smiled at him. The poor fool.

Well. He may as well fund further assistance.

He slid over a few coins and placed a hand on the imperial's shoulder. With a few well-placed words, he had the man spilling his life story, if in disjointed pieces. It was bland and drab and terribly paced, but Viarmo powered through the pain. Imperials enjoyed waxing poetic about their own lives and miseries (no matter how unexciting), after all, and the outcome was well-worth the cost.

The man would remember him as a friendly benefactor who did not ask much. And he had access to the comings and goings of the port.

A perfect addition to his network.

But before Viarmo further ingratiated himself to the man, he needed to get back to the bard's college and greet the mages. There was something unusual about them, and, if nothing else, unusual tales made for wonderful ballads.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

If Whiterun was an old, sprawling city, Solitude was more of a metropolis. Buildings were packed tightly in places, but always built neatly and in parallel to each other. Nothing was out of place. Instead of open gardens for miscellaneous crops, the green spaces were extremely segmented, featuring flowers and aesthetically pleasing plants more often than not.

Also unlike Whiterun, where the buildings were built in a more rustic style, Solitude was filled with stone. Stone-brick walls, cobbled-stone streets, and clay and stone shingles were the dominant building materials.

And, both to her admiration and despair, everything was standardized. The roads were all the same size, bordered by the same buildings, and all led to similar courtyards with similar flowerbeds.

In short, everything looked the same.

It was a masterpiece of planning and architectural design, but absolutely terrible for visitors. The only reprieves were the banners and signs hanging from a few of the buildings.

She mentally cursed Sergius for abandoning her. He had waved her away from the manor he was delivering to with a quick "the Bard's College is up the hill that way. I'll meet you there after I'm finished here."

_How **far** up the hill did he mean? And on which street? The second hill or the third one? Does he mean the arch?_

And the thalmor was equally guilty - he up and disappeared the instant she turned her back on him.

_Stupid thalmor and their stupid unhelpfulness_.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at the latest intersection. Still no road signs, but the intersecting road was wider and busier than the one she had been on, so she turned onto it with a shrug. Another quick turn and she was facing the towers of the Blue Palace. It was uphill.

She grinned.

_This looks more promising - now was the Bards' college on the left side or right side?_

* * *

The Bards' College was on the left, and Evelyn nearly ran up and hugged the sign when she finally spotted it. There were only so many concerned glances and double-takes that she could tolerate from the locals. She was zigzagging in order to read every sign on the road, not because she was ill! She couldn't help not being freakishly (read: nordicly) tall enough to read signs from the other side of the crowded road!

And if she didn't feel like walking in the middle, where everyone was crowding in too close, that was her own business. It wasn't safe to wander in the middle of so many people she didn't know.

* * *

With a deep breath, she knocked on the door. She could hear light music coming from inside - some kind of string instrument.

No response, though. Maybe they hadn't heard her? It **was** kind of loud outside...

Another quick rap on the door. Louder than the first.

The music stuttered briefly, picking up again as if nothing had happened.

_Ah, so they're playing **that** game._

Evelyn twitched. She hadn't just spent the past hour or so searching the city to be ignored! Her eyes narrowed in the direction of the music. The next knock was more of a bang, but her hand only slightly regretted it. _Let them try to ignore that!_

The music cut off and she took a step back.

There were only a few seconds to regret antagonizing whoever was inside - the incoming footsteps were audible even over the road traffic. A fuming imperial woman opened the door and immediately started ranting about her impoliteness.

Evelyn took advantage of the open door to slowly edge her way inside, explaining that she was there on college business. But it was hard to get a word in edgewise when the woman refused to stop talking.

* * *

Evelyn quickly decided that this Aia Arria was harmless.

Loud and snobby and very self-assured, yes. But dangerous? Not in any sense of the word. Her only threats were that the Deans would be furious that their star pupil's practice had been interrupted by a wandering commoner. A filthy commoner, at that.

As she hadn't had a bath since leaving the College of Winterhold nearly a month ago, Evelyn couldn't blame the bard for not believing she was from the College of Winterhold.

But she had business at this College to complete, so she would be staying for at least a little while.

Blinking away her thoughts, she focused back on Aia. Who was still channeling her inner Karen.

"-Dean Pantea should not have to deal with the likes of you! **I** should not have to deal with you either! **Barbarically** interrupting my lute practice with your **incessant** noise-making, and now **refusing** to leave when I have so **politely** asked you to vacate the premises!"

A hand waved in her face. "Do you even know who I am?!"

Evelyn took a calming breath.

_Yes. I know who you are. You're Aia Arria. You've told me several times already. And you apparently don't have a good memory._

She blinked and took a glance around. Where on Earth were the other bards? There should have been other students or a teacher somewhere. Someone else to ask about Pantea's flute or Urag's books.

But no, she was stuck with Aia.

Evelyn turned back to the ranting bard and tilted her head. Was it okay to let her go on talking? She opened her mouth to interrupt when the door burst open.

An altmer strode in. "Ah, Aia! I see that you've already welcomed our guest from the College of Winterhold! Good work!"

Evelyn stopped herself from correcting him and nodded in polite agreement. Aia **had** eventually let her in, after all. The altmer _-very likely to be Viarmo-_ zipped over and, with a quick bow, threaded an arm in hers. He completely ignored the fact that any movement on her part knocked dried salt crystals off her robes and onto the floor. Aia was quiet, though whether that was from shock or Viarmo's presence was up for debate.

After a quick greeting, she was led into an office of some sort, with various instruments hanging on walls and sitting on pedestals.

* * *

She relaxed into the feather stuffed chair as Viarmo zipped around like a six-year-old on a sugar high. According to him, he had forgotten to get the books ready ahead of time. He had insisted on getting them himself, and Evelyn felt that it would be a faux pas if she tried to help the search, but she couldn't help but suspect that it was all an act on his part. She doubted that he was dumb enough to not notice that he had checked the exact same shelf over four times.

_At this rate, Sergius might get here before he's done._

She narrowed her eyes as he took a book from the back bookshelf. It had the same binding style that she'd seen in the rest of the Wolf Queen series in the Arcanaeum. It looked worn enough to be a first edition, and also had the correct coloring. In short: it looked like it was the book she was waiting for. But instead of bringing it over, Viarmo scanned the cover and huffed. As if he was disappointed. She watched very carefully as he set the book aside, title facing away, before moving on to another pile of books.

Her smile twitched.

She sat with the smile pasted on for the next half-hour as Viarmo shuffled around the room pointlessly. She politely nibbled at the miniature sandwiches she was given, even though they were all drowning in mustard and pepper. She watched as Viarmo ate the sandwiches with her, talking about himself and asking useless questions. _And further delaying his 'search.'_

They fell into a routine after he finished his snack.

He went around the room to look for the book, and she glared at him while his back was turned. If he turned around, she would take another bite and try to tone down her gag reflex until he turned away again. Then she could go back to glaring.

Though she crushed the remains of her sandwich after Viarmo wandered over to the book and suddenly 'realized' that it was the one she wanted.

He had conveniently 'found' it right before Sergius arrived, after all.

* * *

Progress went much faster afterward. Money was exchanged and the book was wrapped up all in the span of a few minutes. She only remembered her second job just as they were leaving the office.

"I almost forget - Is Pantea here? I overheard Aia Arria talking about her."

Viarmo took a sideways glance at Sergius, but answered eventually. "Not at the moment, but she will be free in a few days. Does the College wish to hire her services?" Another look toward Sergius.

Evelyn sighed. _No Pantea to teach me mage skills as a reward, then._ She waved her hand dismissively. "Nah. I just think I found something of hers in a cave."

At that, Viarmo tilted his head to focus on her. "May I see?"

_Hmm... May as well get this over with, even though Pantea isn't here._

Shuffling through her bag, she found the fabric-wrapped flute. She handed it over to Viarmo with a lazy flourish. "So... Is that, or is that not, Dean Pantea's flute?" She waved her hand in the flute's general direction. "I mean... It had a little Pantea label on it, but if it's not hers I need to know so I can hunt the correct one down."

_Definitely not going to say that I've known that this belonged here ever since I saw the label._

Evelyn felt her heart drop when Viarmo began analyzing every nook and cranny. Just like when he was looking for the book.

_Not this again._

She looked at Sergius, whose expression was unreadable. Then she looked at Viarmo, who was still poking at the flute. She nodded to herself. _Yeah no. I'm getting outta here. With my luck, Viarmo's reward will be membership in the Bards' College._

_And I would much prefer to never come back, instead._

She started inching toward the door.

Once she was far enough away from the two, she spoke up. "Ah, thanks for your time and all, but I'm pretty tired. I've got the book and I'm sure you can handle the rest, Sergius. I'll just head over to the... Winking Skeever, was it?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Wonderful. I'll see you there."

And with a few steps she was out of the office and free. She took a deep breath. Now she just needed to comb the city for the Winking Skeever.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

As a College Wizard just off a ship voyage involving pirates, Evelyn had expected the wide berth she got from the other patrons at the Winking Skeever. She was enjoying the extra space to relax, actually, since the other patrons didn't smell much better than her.

Or at least, she **had** been enjoying herself, until someone came and tapped her on the shoulder like a creep.

Her glare froze in place when she turned around, however.

* * *

It was a man wearing a two-colored suit. Half red, half purple. He had a cup in hand and wasted no time taking a seat next to her, grinning. No one reacted to his sudden appearance and business went on as usual at the bar. Evelyn wasn't sure what to say, so she stayed quiet. And also very still.

"Heh, I see you know who I am, yes?"

She nodded and his grin grew unnaturally wide.

"Then I may as well cut to the point then. What's the use in always being roundabout when you can spice it up with being normal at times? I think a little normalcy can add a lot of excitement to life..."

Another chuckle as he took a sip. Then she nearly fell off her chair trying to back away as he leaned into her personal space.

He shook his drink at her, spilling some of it on her bedraggled robes.

"Don't try to get back. It's only going to end one way for you if you try."

_Don't try to get back. What does he-_ Her eyes widened. _He has to mean... getting back to Earth! He **knows**._

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"And why should I trust you, Sheogora-"

He waved his hand in her face. "Woah, watch the name dropping! Call me Sheo. Sheogorath makes me feel like I'm ancient or something!"

She took a moment to blink and breathe in deeply. It would have been calming if the air didn't reek of alcohol and sweat.

"...Sheo, then. Why should I trust you? You're not exactly known for being helpful and good."

"What do you mean?! I can be helpful! The younger mes decided to not interfere except for our own interest, but **I** decided to veto **myself** to give you this advice - which is for your own interest. See, aren't I nice?"

He paused and stroked his beard.

"...But wait. If I don't want you dead, then that means that this is all technically in my own interest after all..."

He hummed and nodded, ale spilling out of his cup as he tilted it absentmindedly. Then, he perked up in his seat.

"In that case, I just tricked myself into thinking I beat me! How confusing and convoluted and confounding!-"

He then descended into giggles as Evelyn swallowed nervously. He may have denied being unhelpful, but he hadn't said anything about being good.

But... he said he didn't want her dead...

"Anyways, I think you need to loosen up, maybe think about a happy day or something." There was a pause as he set his cup down. "Oooh! Or maybe your worst day! Thinking about that might help you loosen up, too!" He nodded to himself, seeming incredibly satisfied with his advice, before standing up.

"I've got to go, little traveler, but remember to loosen up! You'll enjoy your once in a lifetime opportunity more that way! ...Maybe."

And then Sheogorath vanished, revealing a scowling Sergius. Behind him stood the thalmor.

They looked between her, the puddle of ale on the ground, and Sheogorath's empty cup in front of her. Sergius was not amused.

* * *

In the dark, Evelyn relaxed into the wall.

To be or not to be. That was the question. Listen to Sheogorath? Or listen to a dimensionally displaced and very distressed pirate? Should she ignore them both? For now, at least, she would sit in the corner of the rented room. Maybe argue with herself over how best to stay alive and get home.

She huffed out a breath and conjured a magelight, juggling it between her hands as she thought.

_Though according to Sheogorath, getting home isn't an option._

If she took Sheogorath for his word, she'd be giving up on getting home. Resigning herself to being trapped here.

_Toss the ball to the right._

But she still had no idea what the other Daedra wanted. They may never tell her either.

_Then to the left._

She had been gone for so long already. Lived for months in a completely different universe. Had her family given up and moved on? While it was rare, people **could** go missing in modern times - just drop completely off the map to never be found again.

Was that what she had been labeled as? A missing person?

_To the right._

And what would happen if she **did** manage to get back?

Back to the regular world where magic didn't exist. Reality. Where it seemed that life was falling apart at times.

But was there any sign of this world being less real than Earth?

_Left._

Make the best of a situation but give up on going home?

_Right._

Or try to get home even though it is likely never going to happen?

A battle between common sense and comfort on either side. _Home would be safer, but trying to get back would go outside of my comfort zone. And going back home is logically the best and safest outcome, but it isn't logical to chase after impossibilities._

A sigh as she caught the magelight and looked down.

_Heh. When there's no right answer... You may as well go left._

She wilted. The joke worked better when her dad said it. Terrible puns were his wheelhouse.

Evelyn sucked in a shaky breath, and then let it go.


	28. Reaching the Reach

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reaching the Reach**

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Skjor?"

Rusvir didn't bother wiping the sweat off his face. There would be no point cleaning up if he was about to practice his fighting forms or spar with Aela again. Any spar with her was likely to end with her victorious and him dragging himself out of a dusty gutter, but he wouldn't mind a rematch.

He watched as Skjor straightened to his full height. _It's__ a job then._

"I did. Your time, it seems, has come."

Rusvir blinked, then shifted in place.

"What do you mean?"

"Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."

_A fragment of Wuuthrad!- Like the other shards that the Companions have collected over the centuries!_

To retrieve such a piece of the Companions' history, when he had joined so soon ago!-

He bowed his head, humbled.

"I would be honored to retrieve it."

Skjor snorted.

"There's a fine line between respect and boot-licking, new blood. But I like your spirit. We've decided this will be your Trial. Do well, and you'll be counted among the Companions."

Skjor handed him a folded slip of paper. The suspected location of the Fragment of Wuuthrad. Rusvir felt a warm pride filling his chest. The Circle believed him ready for his Trial - the last test before he would be accepted as a full Companion.

"Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, whelp. He'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint. Or to get him killed."

With a stern nod, Rusvir went to grab his pack - he was ready and he would not let the Circle down. The burning fire of determination filled him now. He remembered long days of training his endurance. Long nights practicing forms and fighting stances. Dreams of fire and death and then dreams of **beating it back**. Shouting against the dark in a tongue not his own that he would **not give in** \- that he would fight.

Rusvir steeled his eyes ahead. He would show the Circle that he was **more** than ready to be accepted.

He could still see, in his mind's eye, Aela working together with Farkas and Ria to take down a roving giant. Teamwork and training defeating a beast over twice their size. The giant was monstrously strong and cunning, but the Companions were the ones standing at the end of the battle.

The Companions had taught him so much about honor and battle and he still had so much to learn in the future. As a Companion, fighting alongside his Shield-Siblings, he would be able to defend Whiterun from anything that tried to attack its people. They would be victorious over their enemies.

* * *

**1st of First Seed, 4E 202, Morndas**

* * *

While the thalmor joining her and Sergius for their trip down to Markarth wasn't entirely a shock, Evelyn was still curious as to why the thalmor didn't pick up an escort from Solitude. Justiciars traveled in packs, and the Thalmor Embassy was nearby, right?

_Maybe there weren't any free thalmor minions to send south with him?_

_Or maybe he was too impatient?_

Either way, she wouldn't turn down additional firepower if they ran into bandits. Or forsworn, falmer, spriggans, trolls, or any of the other things in Skyrim that want to kill people.

_In Skyrim, the list of things that want you dead is easy: nearly everything that breathes, and even a few things that don't. _

_Heh. Do draugr need to breathe?_

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

During the day's travels, Evelyn spent the majority of her time walking behind the cart. Every so often, either Sergius or the thalmor would hop out and trade places with her so her feet wouldn't spontaneously combust, but her mandatory cart-time was typically - and thankfully - short. She noted after the second day that Sergius was way less likely to take a walk than the thalmor, but Evelyn couldn't fault him. Sergius **was** pretty old by medieval standards, after all.

She honestly didn't mind the walking. Being mobile was much better than laying like a sack of potatoes and risking cart-sickness. And there was another bonus to walking - she could choose to stay behind the cart.

Out of sight.

So long as they didn't look backward too often, the semi-solitude was perfect for practicing her spellcasting.

As she passed another rock cairn, she tossed a magelight into the air. It fell in a perfect parabola before she called it back to her hands again. She tried pulling it into a larger sphere, then squished it into a smaller one. She watched as the brightness fluctuated with each size change.

But she scrambled to stuff it in her robes when the thalmor shifted in front of her. He blinked out of the back of the cart just as she was smoothing her robes out. She added in a few more pats and brushed off some invisible lint, and then looked around like there was something she didn't like nearby.

_Yep. I was definitely in the process of getting a bug or branch off of me. Definitely. Nothing suspicious to see here._

She could almost feel the confused and longsuffering look he was shooting her right now. She could, however, feel the magelight under her robes.

_That was close._

Time passed and the magelight stayed put under her robes. To pass the time, she hopped over a pothole to snag a few low-lying juniper branches, raising an eyebrow at the thalmor. He was avoiding any and all eye contact. Just like all the other times he deigned to see if she was still alive.

She went back to half-heartedly wandering around. Hopefully, the thalmor would get bored.

A few minutes passed before she risked a sly glance at the backs of their heads. The thalmor had turned back around and Sergius was just as clueless as always. Slowly, she pulled out her magelight.

It had survived being stuffed in her robes and was shining just as brightly as before. _Maybe a little bit brighter, actually._

She grinned. Her casting was getting better - quicker, and she felt less of a magicka drain than she had when first starting out - but any spells she cast would still disappear the moment anyone was about to see it. As long as they weren't visible, though, the spells could stay - but she had to be sure to stay quiet as well. She had found that talking would also scare her spells away. Even **trying** to talk while a spell was up would cancel it immediately and make her magicka hide for over half an hour.

As a result of her necessary quietness, the only things her traveling companions could hear were the ambient noises of the wilderness, the occasional verbal spell she tried to cast, and a few half-baked attempts to talk with them.

It probably sounded like she was missing more than just a few marbles, but the results were worth it.

_Step one of the 'find out what's going on and avoid any and all Daedra' plan: get skilled enough to **not** die the instant I don't have backup. Or even **nearly** die - nearly dying is also a no-no._

* * *

**9th of First Seed, 4E 202, Tirdas**

* * *

In order to justify her loafing behind the cart, she needed an excuse.

She decided on 'collecting ingredients,' but that meant that as long as she was lurking and spellcasting, she needed to be collecting as well. So, by the time they hit Dragonbridge, the back of the cart was nearly swallowed in flower cuttings and partially filled sacks. They smelled very nice, but left little room for passengers.

Luckily for the horse, she didn't have the jars necessary to collect the juices - which were heavy in large quantities. The roots, leaves, and flowers were light when dried, and she had enough to sell for a profit when they finally reached Markarth.

_Money for more books is enough to justify me walking behind them so often. Sergius knows that I'm studying the Falmer and that Calcelmo is the scholar most likely to have falmer-related books. _

* * *

Sitting near the campfire for the day, Evelyn pulled out a few tufts of tundra cotton. It was highly labor-intensive to separate the seeds from the cotton, but both were important ingredients for popular mages' potions.

_And speaking of labor-intensive- An additional benefit of these ingredients is that I don't need to help prepare meals. Whenever we rest, I just separate and sort every ingredient I've collected. The cooking usually finishes up before I do._

She looked over to see Sergius chopping potatoes into a stew pot. The thalmor was working on carving up a fish from the nearby river.

_Heh. It's probably best that I'm not helping. As a college student whose diet was mainly ramen, fruit, and stress-baked sweets, I wouldn't be much help gutting and cooking rabbits and fish._

Sergius grumbled about the 'rabbit that keeps getting away' as she sat silently, picking seeds out of fluff. She hummed to herself.

_I'll watch and learn though. If I don't have backup then I won't have cooking services either._

* * *

**xXxXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Markarth was in an uproar.

A silent one, but an uproar nonetheless.

Guards shied away from Justiciars as they prowled the midnight hours, while citizens avoided both like the plague.

The Thalmor weren't happy, the rumors said. Someone's cousin's friend's cook overheard news of another group of Justiciars gone missing. Only one survived.

It happened in the north, the rumors said. A group of new recruits fresh from Alinor gone - attacked on their way back from some mysterious job.

The Reachmen in the city kept their heads down. They weren't involved. They were ignored for the most part by the Justiciars.

The Nords were less lucky.

A string of arrests left the city short a dozen presumed Talos-worshippers. Only time would tell whether they were proven innocent by thorough property searches or not. There would be no resistance to the White-Gold Concordat allowed.

Tensions were high, and tolerance was low. Stress among the guards spilled over into their other duties. There was a spike in prison deaths in Cidhna Mine - if anyone had cared to pay attention.

As it was, the only note was that production was low, and orders bearing the Silver-Blood seal were sent out to quickly remedy the situation.

They called for longer working hours and more guard involvement - low production was intolerable. Food would be rationed further to make up for lost profits. Without the money from Cidhna Mine, the city's earnings would drop. An unacceptable outcome. Guards were prepared to arrest for less serious charges if it meant keeping their job and livelihood alive. It wasn't as if the so-called 'peasant lawbreakers' were helping keep the economy alive after all.

Some citizens sold out their neighbors. They couldn't be Talos worshippers if they gave away an actual worshipper, right? The guards were only too happy to keep the prisoners flowing into the mines. So long as they didn't know the poor sap, it wasn't their problem.

It was an orderly chaos of lawful murder and perfectly documented betrayals in Markarth, but it was just business for the city.

For if the silver ever ran dry, blood would have to make up the difference.


End file.
